New Beginnings
by gainesm
Summary: The Warehouse travels through a time rift, but all is not as it should be.  Myka, H.G. Wells, Pete, Claudia, Artie, Leena, Steve, Mrs. Frederick.  *Episode 1 of the "New Beginnings" Storyline*
1. New Beginnings  Chapter 1

New Beginnings by Marcia Gaines

This story continues the arc prefaced in "Just For Tonight".

Content for this new arc is K+, for the previous it was MA

"New Beginnings"

By

Marcia Gaines

Chapter One

Myka stood with her hand on her hip and looked at the clothes she laid out on the bed. The powder blue button-down, grey cardigan vest, and jeans stared back at her as if to dare her to find something with more personality. They were her usual fare, so she was not sure why they seemed so bland today. _Even this bathrobe seems more cheerful than that outfit_, she thought, as she readjusted the terry cloth belt around her waist. She let out a sigh and went back to her bureau wondering if she had anything more appealing to fit her mood.

"Anything but the status quo," she muttered under her breath. After the way things had been over the last months, and especially after the dream she just had, she needed something other than more of the same. She rifled through her clothing selection and settled on a white silk tank, black slacks, and a thin burgundy scarf. "Definitely better," she said to her image when she finished dressing, and grabbed her gun and badge to affix to her belt and retrieved her Farnsworth from under her pillow where she stashed it earlier that morning. She paused before heading to the door and picked up H.G. Wells' locket. Though it brought a smile to her face, it was a sad one, and she closed her eyes to think.

Although she privately considered it to be her lucky locket, Myka knew telling herself such nonsense was just a rationalization to keep it with her; she did not care whether or not the notion was silly. She grew to like the feeling the locket gave her when she had it with her. Feeling the weight of it around her neck, or the bulk of it in her pocket, always gave her the sense H.G. was nearby. The comfort of that thought carried her through many difficult days, and over time it grew into a habit. She decided she would feel out of sorts if she left it behind, so she slipped it into her left pocket and walked downstairs for breakfast.

"Good morning, Myka." Leena greeted her and gave her an appreciative nod. "Don't you look nice?"

"Good morning, Leena!" Myka replied. "And, thank you, I just felt like dressing up today." She glanced down at her outfit and smiled. "After all, it _is_ a special day!" They both smiled broadly, and excitedly sat down to eat a quick meal before heading out together. They discussed Artie's update to Leena earlier that morning, there were still a few anomalies but he deemed it safe enough to open the Warehouse. They were back in business and Myka's heart was lightened by the news. When they pulled up to the rickety building a few minutes later Myka noted the temporary building they were using for their operations center was being disassembled. Artie was not one to waste time and apparently today was no exception. With the Warehouse operational, the temporary facility was no longer necessary.

The Warehouse looked exactly the same as it always did, and Myka's mouth showed a slight smile as she considered how happy she was to see it again. Over the last three years the Warehouse had become her home, and her co-workers were her family. The place was truly her happiest place on Earth, and she was only too glad to be back on the premises. The walk to the main office seemed longer than usual due to her excitement, so that by the time she and Leena validated their identities to the scanner she felt like she was going to burst with expectation.

As the door opened Artie's voice boomed out, "CLAUDIAAAAAAA!" Myka laughed. That was definitely normal. She quickly glanced around the office and raised her eyebrows. It was a complete wreck. The mess did not appear to be from the explosion itself. It seemed more likely the place was ransacked, but Myka knew better. The Warehouse had been on lock-down since yesterday evening, and the pools of purple fluid everywhere reminded her of Artie's statement. If this was what artifacts "acting up" looked like, she would hate to see what happened when they were angry.

"Artie?" Leena called out to the empty room. She bent down to pick up some folders and placed them on his desk. Myka walked to one of the inner doors to search for Artie and frowned as she looked down to see her shoes sloshing through neutralizer. _That figures_, she thought._ The one day I decided to dress up would be the one day I should have dressed more like Pete_. She sighed and reached for the door, but before she could open it, Artie came striding through it.

"Oh, good. You're here," he said. He moved into the room and dropped a spray-bucket and hose before beginning to remove his goggles, gloves, and his neutralized lab-coat. Leena and Myka looked at each other as if to silently dare one another to be the one to ask. Neither of them were able to get the question out before Claudia came running into the office. Apparently whatever drenched Artie gave Claudia a double-dose. She was completely covered; head to toe, with the neutralizer fluid. Enough of it dried in her hair that it looked like she forgot to comb it after applying a large amount of styling gel. She, too, wore a lab-coat, gloves, and goggles.

"Dude!" she exclaimed as she noticed Leena and Myka. "It is _seriously_ Freaky Friday down there. You do _not_ want to leave this office." She collapsed into a chair and put her head in her hands before pulling off her coat, gloves, and goggles.

"Claudia?" Artie questioned with a low and drawn-out tone.

"Oh my God, Naggy O'Naggerstein," she retorted, "Give me a minute here!"

"We don't. Have. A minute." Artie stated in the staccato-like cadence he reserved for his exasperated moments. Claudia muttered something incoherently and stood up. She moved to her computer station and tapped furiously on the keyboard. Moments later her screen showed the current reading for artifact activity. There were two small red blips on the screen.

"Progress!" she yelled and added, "Down to just two. And I know exactly where those are." She stood up again and began pulling on her wrangling gear.

"Artie…" Leena said interrupting the exchange. "What happened here?"

"It looks worse than it is," he said and his glasses bobbled up and down as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He readjusted them and continued, "We have a few artifacts reacting to the translocation of the Warehouse." He pointed to the shattered remains of something on his desk. "The pocket watch James left me. I thought it would reverse time and let us save the Warehouse, but that's not what it does. Instead it creates a sort of… a…a…" He waved his hands in the air as he searched for the proper word, "I don't know, a sort of… temporal rift."

"A temporal rift?" asked Myka.

"More like a supersonic tunnel of time," Claudia offered. "It created a sort of bubble around Artie that stretched out and grabbed the entire Warehouse. One minute we were staring at empty ground, the next minute the Warehouse came wooshing out of the tunnel." She had on her coat and reached for her gloves as she spoke.

"I don't understand," said Leena.

"Neither do we," replied Artie. "We haven't been able to figure it all out just yet. We've been a little busy." He looked at Claudia as he answered.

"Understatement of the century," Claudia said. "I swear to Almighty Oprah, if one more artifact decides to throw a hissy fit I'm going to…" Her words were cut short by the sound of Artie's Farnsworth. He reached for it and opened the case. Pete's disembodied voice filled the room.

"Artie. Hey." He said.

"Where are you?" growled Artie into the Farnsworth. "You were supposed to be here already!"

"Hold your horses; I'm just a few minutes away. I was calling because I need to know what you want on your burrito." Pete said.

"On my what?" retorted Artie.

"I stopped for some burritos on the way back. They're really good, too. I got a couple for the road. Want one?" He held up what must have been two burritos for Artie to see. They were wrapped and appeared to be the size of large soup cans.

"Just. Get. Here." Artie said in that staccato tone again.

"Okay, but what about Claud or Myka? I mean, seriously Artie, these burritos are really goo…" Pete did not finish his sentence before Artie slammed the Farnsworth's case shut. He turned to Claudia who was wringing fluid from some clothes. "Are you still here?"

"Dude. Chill. I'm getting ready to go back down there." She dropped the wet clothing into a bucket and looked at Leena. "Did you get them?"

Leena held up a bag and nodded. "Yes, a whole new set of workout clothes for Pete."

"Oh thank God. Maybe he won't notice." Claudia said with relief.

"Notice what?" Myka asked.

"Oh, ah, well one of the angst-y artifacts caused some trouble in the Pete-cave and I sort of… had to… spray everything down in there." She indicated to Leena to follow her as she turned to leave. "I'll have to replace the Nerf-balls and his Silly Putty collection some other time." As they headed out of the office she added, "Apparently… neutralizer and gooy rubbery stuff do not mix well."

Myka watched her leave before turning her attention to Artie. "Artie, what is going on here?"

He looked thoughtful and said, "Artifacts are delicate things. They like to be at a state of rest. With the transfer through the… rift, some of the more touchy artifacts were… disturbed… as it were." He stood up and began removing his gear. "Luckily we have that under control now." His sentence was punctuated by the sound of a large crash.

"Or… Not…" said Myka and they both ran to the inner area of the Warehouse. From below them on the catwalk they could see Claudia thrashing around under a pile of objects. Leena was helping her to her feet. "Claudia? Are you okay?" Myka called out to her.

"I'm good. Great. Perfect!" she yelled back. She stood up and kicked at the pile of metal sending a couple of them bouncing off the shelves. One whizzed by Myka and Artie.

"Claudia!" barked Artie as he ducked. "What are you doing? Those are artifacts!" Myka turned her head to watch the path of the flying object; it ricocheted off the guard rail and hit her in the hip before taking off again.

"Ow!" Myka exclaimed as she rubbed the impact point on her left hip. That was going to leave a mark. The object bounced around a few more times before falling harmlessly to the grating below her.

"Sorry!" said Claudia meekly.

Artie and Myka stood up and descended the nearest staircase to the Warehouse floor. His glare spoke volumes, and Claudia cowered under it as she shuffled off to retrieve the accosting object. She returned with it a few moments later and looked at Myka apologetically. "I'm so sorry, Myka." She said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Myka said in response. She turned to Artie and repeated herself, "I'm fine." His glare softened, but only slightly.

"You do not kick artifacts, Claudia." His voice was harsh. "Do you have any idea what that thing is?" He pointed to the object in her hand as he asked his accusing question. Claudia looked at her hand. The object was small, about the size of a baseball, but was not a uniform shape. It was red, but so dark it bordered on purple. It was also transparent, as if it was chipped from a large object made of dark glass. Before Claudia could respond he answered for her. "That, you impatient child, is the _actual_ Philosopher's Stone. It's been written about in legend for centuries and you kick it around the Warehouse like it's a soccer ball?"

Everyone looked at the Stone as Artie continued his tirade. "Do you have any idea what that stone can do?" His voice reached a volume loud enough to hurt Myka's ears. She turned her head and grimaced as he ranted.

The air around them began to crackle. "Uh. Artie?" Myka said.

"That stone has the properties to transmute anything it touches. Anything!" He ignored Myka as he yelled. "The last thing we need is for the very Warehouse itself to turn into metals incapable of dealing with the artifact energy surrounding us!"

Small pops and the sound of sizzling permeated the area near them. Myka's face showed concern as she pleaded again, "Artie? Calm down."

He continued to ignore her as he swiped at Claudia's hand but stopped short as he realized he no longer wore his protective gloves. "Put that back, and don't kick anything else!" he bellowed.

"Artie!" Myka tried to say emphatically without yelling. "Keep the emotions under control." With that she finally got his attention and he made a face as he stuffed back his anger.

Claudia chose to capitalize on the reprieve and slunk away to disappear into one of the rows of shelves. Leena gave Myka a look and pointed to the bag of clothes she had as she walked off in the direction of Pete's cave. Artie stomped off to an unannounced destination and Myka was left standing by herself. She looked around as the air popped one last time. Clearly tensions were high and with everything already going on they did not need to be making things worse. She let out a sigh. _What a strange thing_, she thought. _This place where nothing was as it seemed turned into such an important place in my life. I never saw that coming_. She never would have imagined how much mayhem such seemingly ordinary things could cause through no fault of their own. She looked down at the pile of objects near her feet and smiled. Endless wonder, indeed, she thought.

"Myka!" a voice above her shouted in excitement. She looked up. It was Pete. She smiled in return and headed back to the stairs. He looked confused as he asked "What the hell happened? Why is there neutralizer everywhere?" He turned to face her from the catwalk and beamed an ear to ear smile in her direction. He never thought he would see the Warehouse again and, like Myka, his happiness was more than evident. He began descending the stairs as Myka spoke.

"I'll let Artie explain that one…" she said. "Go ahead and call him, I'll be right there."

"I already did, he's on his way." He smiled at her. "Can you believe it? It's baa-a-ck" he said mimicking the Poltergeist slogan. Myka grinned at him and they walked into the office.

"Yes. It's back. And it's about time you are, too, Agent Lattimer." The sound of Mrs. Frederic's voice caught them both by surprise when they walked through the doorway. "I trust you have all your… issues… behind you?" She eyed him over the top of her glasses. He nodded nervously. Something about Mrs. Frederic always made them both anxious.

"Good," she continued as Artie, Claudia, and Leena walked into the room. "We have a situation. We need all hands on deck for this one."

Page | 8


	2. New Beginnings  Chapter 2

New Beginnings by Marcia Gaines

Chapter Two

"Mrs. Frederic. You're alive." Artie's voice was filled with awe. Mrs. Frederic died the same day as the Warehouse explosion, her death seemingly tied directly to that event in some unknown way.

"Yes," was her only response. "And now we have work to do." She laid a manila folder on the desk and flipped open the file.

"But… but, how?" asked Leena as she intently studied Mrs. Frederic's face. "We watched you die."

"Wait!" Claudia's face filled with excitement. "If you're alive does that mean Steve is alive, too?"

Mrs. Frederick turned her gaze to Claudia, as she spoke. "Not all deaths are as they seem." Claudia's face fell and she swore under her breath. She and Steve were as close as Myka and Pete, and she did not accept the finality of the circumstances until Johann Maelzel's Metronome failed to bring him back. She hoped it would extend his life in the same way it had for Marcus Diamond, but when it did not she realized the Metronome could only extend life rather than restore it.

"Then how?" asked Leena as she studied Mrs. Frederic's face intently.

"That is not important." She said flatly.

"The hell it isn't!" exclaimed Pete. "You died, lady. You shriveled up like an old prune and…" he stopped when Mrs. Frederic stared at him. "Died…" he finished before adding meekly, "I'm, I'm, you know. I'm just sayin…" he turned to Myka and whispered emphatically, "I hate it when she gives me "scary-eye", it's just creepy." Myka gave him a sympathizing look.

"All you need to know is precautions were taken before I arrived at Leena's." She placed a small corroded metal object next to the open file. "Strong precautions."

Artie gasped and leaned over the desk to carefully eye the ancient bronze curiosity. "Of course." He said thoughtfully, "The Antikythera Mechanism." He gave her a quick look of concern.

"The Anti-whatitha?" asked Pete. He looked from Mrs. Frederic to Artie, his confusion was more than evident on his face.

"The Antikythera Mechanism," repeated Artie. "No one knows where it came from originally. It was recovered from an ancient shipwreck near Crete in 1900." He grabbed a purple glove and held it out as he spoke. "The writing on the outer case dates it circa 2nd Century B.C., but tests determined it had working gears inside that could not possibly have existed before The Renaissance." He examined the artifact more closely. Claudia's interests were piqued by the mechanical implications and she moved in for a closer look.

"Wicked," she said with appreciation. "The mechanics of this thing are seriously complex. It's like looking at the first analog computer." No one else understood the implication so she added, "It's like you're Barney Rubble and somehow you managed to put together an iPod."

"Ah!" Pete and Myka said in unison.

Artie moved his glasses to get a better look at the object and expounded further, "Years ago we thought it primarily helped calculate astronomical movements…" his voice trailed off as he continued his examination. A moment later he continued, "But it turns out it did much more than that. The precise movements of the gears helped it align not just to the stars, but also to someone's personal electro-magnetic field." He sat back and finished his thought, "Essentially, it has the ability to protect a person, in some way we have yet to fully understand, from an artifact-induced death… but at a terrible cost to the person using it." He gave Mrs. Frederic a long look. "It shortens the person's lifespan by decades." He grew somber as he spoke and directed a question to Mrs. Frederic. "How many years did you lose?" he asked.

"More than I care to know," she answered. "Suffice it to say there is no time to waste." She picked up a photograph from the open file and handed it to him. He turned his attention to it as he sat in his chair. The photograph looked to be taken in the early 1940s. Two of the men were older and wore dark suits and fedoras and were holding cigars. The third man was younger and was dressed in a military uniform in use during World War 2. He wore dark horn-rimmed glasses, and his nameplate said "Jones". The woman's face was obscured by smoke from the cigars, but she had long wavy hair and wore an elegant looking evening dress.

"What's this?" he asked inquisitively.

"We are looking for an artifact, a locker, belonging to this man." She pointed at the photograph. "Former Corporal, David Q. Jones the 4th." She answered.

"Wait. Seriously?" inquired Claudia. "David Jones' locker? As in Davy Jones' Locker? You're kidding me, right?" She glanced at Pete who raised his eyebrows.

"I do not kid, Ms. Donovon," responded Mrs. Frederic. Claudia pursed her lips in response. "It is essential we recover that locker. Lives depend upon it."

"Okay," said Myka in a drawn out tone. "Where do we start? What does it do? Whose lives depend on it?" Her questions came out rapid-fire as she walked over to Artie and looked over his shoulder at the photograph.

"Davy Jones' Locker has been around since the 1600s. Earliest known references to it come from nautical legends and memoirs of old sailors and pirates," Artie said. "It's been on the most-wanted list for Warehouses since the days of Warehouse 11 in Melbourne."

"Hah. G'day matey, argh!" joked Pete in a mimicking voice. Claudia stifled a laugh and Myka rolled her eyes. "What? C'mon, like I was the only one thinking it," he said.

"You were," Artie retorted.

"Where you start is with the current address of Mr. Jones, Agent Bering" said Mrs. Frederic. "I assume Ms. Donovon can assist you with that?" she said in a questioning tone as she looked at Claudia.

"Can I assist with that? Dude, does Mario want a one-up?" Claudia replied, and immediately began typing on her laptop. A few moments later she announced an address located in Valencia, California.

"Okay, so we're off to California," said Pete. "Care to fill us in on what this thing does besides hold old clothes and smell like seawater?"

"The Locker stores the souls of all who have died as a result of an artifact." Artie stated without hesitation.

"Whoa." Said Claudia. "That's gotta be one seriously full Locker."

"Yeah, but if all it does is store souls, how does someone's life depend on us getting it? I mean, isn't the person whose soul is in there already dead?" Pete asked with a confused look.

"Yes, Agent Lattimer, you are correct. The Locker stores souls of those who have already died. As for the lives depending upon your successful retrieval, that information won't really matter until we have the Locker back here." Mrs. Frederic finished her sentence and looked at Myka and Pete expectantly. Her look indicated they should begin their preparations for the trip to California.

"Right. Well, okay, I guess we're off to Val-en-ci-a" he said, emphasizing each syllable. Myka stared at him. "What? I just like the way it sounds. Val-en-ci-a. Try it." She shook her head and walked toward the door to the inner-Warehouse.

"I'll meet you in a minute; I just want to take care of something." She gave him a quick smile and walked out of the office onto the catwalk and down the flight of stairs to the floor. A few minutes later she located the containment area in the center of the Warehouse. She stood outside and reminisced back to the day of the explosion and let the memories fill her mind. She remembered the sense of dread she had when H.G. Wells asserted her intention to allow Pete to destroy the Janus Coin. The idea of losing such an incredible person was something that still hit her hard. It may have only been a few months ago, but it still felt like a lifetime since those events. _I could never have done it_, she thought, _I could never have let Pete destroy that coin_. She took in a deep breath as she considered her intentions when she double-backed that day in the forest.

Luckily she never had to confront Pete or force the confrontation over the coin. By the time she returned to where she left him, a whole different scenario was playing itself out in the clearing. A twinge of guilt swept through her as she remembered how grateful she felt when she found out Marcus and Steve recovered the coin – knowing H.G. would survive meant more to her than trying to prevent Sykes from fulfilling his plan. _If only I had known what his plan really was_, she thought. _Would I have made a different choice?_ Myka did not know the answer to her question, and it troubled her to realize she may have still made the same decisions.

She ended up losing H.G. anyway, and the only comfort in the memory was in knowing H.G. made the choice willingly. Whatever doubt anyone might have had about her in that moment, her sacrifice for the sake of another did not go unnoticed. Even Artie softened his position, though whether that was from a new appreciation for her strength of character or from the freedom he had to no longer worry about her intentions remained to be seen. For Myka, though, the memory of H.G.'s smile, and the connection they shared in those final moments were with her forever.

She felt the familiar sting of tears in her eyes she always felt when she thought of that day, and she reached into her left-pocket without thinking. The locket always calmed her in such moments, and this was no exception. She felt the metal against her finger just as the first tear fell. Somehow standing in front of the location where H.G. died made everything feel so much more intense, and she wondered whether it was a good idea to enter. She closed her eyes and instinctively wrapped her hand around the locket.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, and pulled her hand out of the pocket. A small red bead dotted her left index finger. "Damn," she muttered and sucked at the drop of blood. It had already stopped bleeding, but she inspected her finger anyway before gingerly reaching into the pocket, again. Her fingers brushed the side of the locket and she found the offending point that pricked her. A small area on one of the corners was damaged. _The Philosopher's Stone_, she thought. _It hit me on my left side_. She expanded her fingers against the pocket and felt a small hole. _Yep, that's what did it_. She made a mental note to file the edge down in order to prevent another injury.

Myka took another look at the containment area and decided with how intensely she was emotionally reeling that this was, perhaps, not the best time to try to confront her feelings about losing H.G.; just standing here was more difficult than she imagined. As she walked away she saw the image of H.G. moments before the explosion as it invaded her thoughts. The sadness in H.G.'s eyes, Myka's realization she was about to lose her, and the horrific moment when Myka saw the flash of light – the memories triggered her deepest emotions and they washed over her with such pointedness she had to stop walking in order to support herself against one of the shelves. She closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing, but it took a few minutes before the flood of images dissipated. She looked back at the containment area and sighed. "Goodbye, Helena," she said as she turned and headed back to prepare for her upcoming mission.

Page | 6


	3. New Beginnings  Chapter 3

New Beginnings by Marcia Gaines

Chapter Three

David Jones, now in his eighties, sat in a wingback chair across from Myka and Pete who were seated on an overstuffed sofa in Mr. Jones' living room. Pete glanced at the nautical memorabilia artfully displayed throughout the room. Various sextants, spyglasses, and cannon balls adorned the mantle while worn and discolored maps hung in elegant frames on the walls. Numerous related objects were meticulously laid out in artful display cases, and Pete could not help himself as he reached out to spin the globe stationed near him.

"Please don't touch that, Agent Lattimer," said Mr. Jones. "It has been in my family for generations, like the locker you seek. I still do not quite understand the need the Secret Service has for one of my belongings. It's just an old locker, handed down through many generations." He directed his gaze at Myka with a questioning eyebrow. Pete withdrew his hand, but gave the globe a disappointed look.

"Mr. Jones, I know this may sound unusual," she answered. "Without revealing any classified information, all my partner and I can tell you is there is a… a…" _Oh here it comes_, she thought. _I hate this part._ Lying to others never came easy for her, and she found herself forced to lie on so many occasions on behalf of the Warehouse over the last three years she wondered why she never seemed to get better at it.

"We, uh, we believe the locker may…" Pete jumped in, as he usually did, to help Myka with an excuse. The creative explanations never seemed to be a problem for him the way it was for her, but he forgave her the shortcoming as he knew it was just an extension of her rigid ethical standard; a quality he admired in Myka even if he did not always embody it himself.

The two partners discussed this dichotomy on a number of occasions, and concluded that while Pete did live by a very high set of standards, for him the world was full of many colors including multiple shades of grey; while, for Myka it was much more black-and-white. Where he could see a reason to bend rules or overlook regulations, Myka saw issues of right and wrong. Because of those differences, they occasionally disagreed on how to pursue something, but Myka learned over time to trust Pete's judgments, and Pete also learned not to push Myka's sensibilities too far. The balance worked well for them, so it came as a complete shock when Myka cut him off in the middle of his explanation.

"That it may prove to be an important piece of material evidence in an open investigation concerning counterfeiting of U.S. currency." She delivered the line dead-pan, and Pete stared at her.

"Y-Yes," he added weakly.

"That's not possible," responded the elderly man in an unsure tone. "That locker hasn't left this house since I came home from the War more than 60 years ago." Just then an elderly woman walked into the room from another area of the home. She was dressed casually, but wore a small amount of makeup and earrings. She set a tray with three glasses of iced-tea and a plate of cookies on the table before speaking to Mr. Jones.

"What's impossible, dear?" she asked. She had a very pleasant demeanor and wore an attractive floral dress. Pete liked her immediately, though with how hungry he was at that moment anyone who decided to put food in front of him was likely to end up on his good side.

"Oh, these young people here are doing an investigation," Mr. Jones said pointing out Myka and Pete. He gestured at the elder woman and introduced her as his wife, Harriet. Pete and Myka stood up and offered their hands as they introduced themselves.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am. I'm Agent Bering. This is Agent Lattimer." She glanced at Pete and continued. "As your husband said, we're here with the Secret Service." Myka spoke professionally and to the point.

"Oh. Dear me," she said as she looked at them. "What does the Secret Service need with us?" She turned to her husband and asked, "David?" Before they could answer Mr. Jones responded.

"They say that old locker of mine is somehow involved in a counterfeiting thing. Can you believe that?" He said with a furrowed brow.

"Counterfeiting? Why on earth would they think that?" Her face clouded as she asked the question. "Please, sit," she said and indicated the sofa with her eyes as she took the other wing-back next to her husband. Myka and Pete sat down, and Pete eagerly reached for a peanut butter cookie.

"Beats me, honey, but I don't see how they think that locker could be involved in anything like that. I was just telling them it hasn't left the house since 1947," he said. She thought for a moment before nodding in agreement.

Pete opened his mouth to say something, but Myka started speaking. "Mrs. Jones, we believe the locker may have been used, without Mr. Jones' knowledge, to help transport counterfeit treasury bonds into the United States when he was returning home from World War 2." Pete's mouth fell open and he stared at Myka. That was the best lie he had ever heard her deliver. He shoved the cookie into his mouth to cover his astonishment. It was unexpectedly tasty and he crunched it in delight.

"Wow. Veezr leegoo," he muffled. "Skay five ore?"

Mrs. Jones looked confused. Myka gave Pete a wide-eyed look before translating for him, "He says the cookies are really good, and he wants to know if it's okay if he has more." Of the entire Warehouse team, Myka still spoke "Pete" better than anyone else. He looked at her gratefully and nodded.

"Yes, yes of course," Mrs. Jones said. "I'm so glad you like them. It's my mother's secret recipe." Her eyes twinkled as she scrunched her nose and gave Pete a conspiratorial smile.

* * *

><p>Artie and Mrs. Frederic followed Leena through the Warehouse. She led them through a few turns, until she stopped in front of a shelf unit and pointed to the Philosopher's Stone. Mrs. Frederic took a purple glove and a bag and placed the stone into containment for transport. After retrieving the artifact, they headed to the section of the wall used for the passage to the Ancient Regent Sanctum.<p>

"I need you to tell me if you sense Walter Sykes," Mrs. Frederic said to Leena. "This is very important. I need you to focus and be very sure, either way." The younger woman looked at both of them before turning her attention to the wall. It was smooth and grey, and bore no hint of the nearly magical ability it had to transform into a portal between the Warehouse and the basement of another building over a thousand miles away. Leena stepped closer and concentrated on the wall. A few minutes passed and she leaned forward to place both of her hands on the wall. She studied it carefully and then she closed her eyes and remained silent for another minute.

"No, Mrs. Frederic," she said. "I don't sense him, or anything else, in there. I don't understand. If he was trapped in that wall wouldn't it be impossible for me to pick up anything from him?"

"It's hard to say," replied Mrs. Frederic. "Some of the Regents believed he would be dead, perhaps even fully disintegrated the way his arm fell to dust as Mrs. Lattimer described. Some of us, however, believe he did not." She took a step toward the wall and considered it as she spoke. "I believe the areas of Mr. Sykes' body that were still in transit when the portal closed would be perfectly preserved, alive, as if in stasis." Leena pondered the possibility and shook her head.

"I don't know, Mrs. Frederic, I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "I just can't tell if he's in there."

"No matter," Mrs. Frederic stated. "For now, we have other matters to attend."

"Okay," Leena looked toward the Southern point of the Warehouse. "Well, if you don't need me for anything else, I told Claudia I'd help her with the inventory she is trying to finish." She gave them both a last look and then excused herself to join Claudia. Artie and Mrs. Frederic watched her departure until she disappeared after turning at the end of the long aisle.

"I still don't understand what it is you're going to do with the Stone," said Artie as he turned to Mrs. Frederic.

"This," she held up the bag. "…is what we're going to use to help us revive Agent Jinks," she responded. Artie's head shot up at the mention of the fallen Agent's name. Though Steve had only been with the Warehouse a short time before he was believed to have been fired by Mrs. Frederic over a severe display of insubordination, Artie still felt responsible for his death. He had lost agents in the field before, but Steve's death was particularly difficult due to the nature of the circumstances and how close the team had become.

"You're going to what?" He asked incredulously. "Mrs. Frederic, you know as well as I do the horrible consequences of using a resurrection artifact."

"It's not what you think, Agent Nielsen. We had some idea of what to expect as Mr. Sykes reached his end-game. Agent Jinks also took precautions before we sent him on his mission. When we found Sally Stukowski's body we were able to identify the poison used to kill her. It was a tea-extract that creates a heart-attack." Mrs. Frederic remained expressionless as she explained. "It was our assumption if Agent Jinks were ever to be considered a liability, this would be the preferred method of extermination. We were right. When Mr. Diamond injected him with that poison, it did appear to kill him, but because he carried Cleopatra's Coin…"

"It slowed the poison!" Artie exclaimed. "And now you can reverse the poison by using the Philsopher's Stone?"

"Yes. We just need to transmute the coin's metal and instead of just slowing the poison, it should absorb it in its entirety," she said.

Artie breathed a heavy sigh. The relief he felt was easily read on his face. He asked, "So, if that is how you intend on reviving Steve… then what does Davy Jones' Locker have to do with Steve?"

"Nothing." She said flatly.

* * *

><p>"Hrmph," huffed Mr. Jones. "I tried telling my father I should not have taken that locker with me when I shipped off with the Navy. He insisted, though. He said that locker accompanied every sailor in our family to every adventure on the high seas whenever there was a war or extended expedition. It was a silly superstition. Still, I suppose it did always seem like I had a little bit of home with me while I was away. Strange how a simple memento like that can help ease the strain of being separated from your loved ones." He looked over at his wife and smiled, she smiled in return and they reached across to hold each other's hand.<p>

_I know exactly what you mean,_ Myka thought, and she absent-mindedly brushed her hand over locket in her coat pocket. She closed her eyes momentarily and imagined Helena's face smiling at her from outside the barrier in the containment room. Somewhere in the reaches of her mind she heard Helena's voice saying her name. She shuddered and the image was gone. Myka opened her eyes and tried to focus on what the Jones' were saying.

"Okay, so you two are going to take the locker. When do we get it back?" Mr. Jones asked.

"Uh, we're not sure. But, we can give you a card," Pete said and produced a business card which he handed to Mr. Jones. "You can contact us at that number, and we'll be able to let you know the details on how long we'll be needing it for ah…" he glanced at Myka. "…the investigation."

Mr. Jones looked at the card and then examined at Pete's face as if to determine whether or not he thought Pete was trustworthy. "Fair enough, young man. But, you take good care of this locker, you understand? This may just be an old locker to you, but it is an heirloom to me, and my grandson will be shipping off for duty soon and I have every intention of making sure this locker goes with him." His eyes bore into Pete's as he spoke.

"Yes, sir," said Pete. "We'll be sure to hurry through our investigation as quickly as possible." Pete understood what it was like to leave for duty. His time as a Marine gave him an appreciation for Mr. Jones' sentiments only a fellow service member could share.

"Okay, then," said Mr. Jones. "Harriet and I will need to clean it out first. Give us a moment please. We'll be right back." They gingerly rose from their chairs and disappeared into a room off of an adjacent hallway. Pete popped the last of a cookie into his mouth and looked at Myka.

"Wow. Nice story, Mykes. Counterfeit treasury bonds?" He looked impressed.

"We _are_ the Secret Service, Pete. Counterfeiting is in our purview." Myka reached for a glass of ice tea and took a long sip. "I can't believe how easy that was. I was expecting it to take more work for us to convince them to let us have it." She stared off down the hall.

"Mm. Yeah, but I'm not complaining. It's about time we got a milk-run," said Pete before biting into yet another cookie. He furrowed his eyebrows and said, "And now, I want milk."

* * *

><p>Artie looked intently at Mrs. Frederic and asked, "Nothing? You sent them on a mission to retrieve an artifact you told them was a matter of life and death, and you intend to do <em>nothing<em> with it?"

Mrs. Frederic considered her words before responding. "That is not what I said. The locker has nothing to do with Agent Jinks. And as far as _he_ is concerned, no one else is to be made aware of the circumstances surrounding Agent Jinks' death," she said. "As far as everyone else is to believe he died three months ago, and was buried next to his sister."

"What? Why can't they know? Do you have any idea how devastated Pete and Myka were?" Artie's voice rose in pitch. "Do you know the not-so-private hell Claudia's been through because of his death? They _deserve_ to know. They have a _right_ to know. They are his _team_!" His voice reached a crescendo with the word "team" and Mrs. Frederic stared at him. The air around them began to crackle.

"We are not entirely sure whether or not the Walter Sykes' situation has been resolved. We kept the knowledge about Agent Jinks quiet until we knew whether or not the Warehouse would be restored. Now that it is, if Mr. Sykes is still out there somehow," she looked in the direction of the portal. "He will make another attempt. It is likely he will make that attempt as soon as possible. And, if he does, the more ability we have to surprise him – the better." She looked blankly at him as she finished speaking. Artie stood motionless taking in her words. A fire lit in his eyes as he mulled the implications of what it would mean for Steve Jinks to be revived and remain completely cut off from the remainder of the team.

"Wait. What?" He said in a disbelieving tone. "You intend on bringing back Steve Jinks and to keep him undercover – to keep him from being able to communicate with Pete and Myka while that maniac Sykes could still be out on the loose?" Artie's tone changed dramatically. "I do _not_ accept that!" he exploded. Streaks of light formed above them like lightning and snaked through the air until they dissipated before reaching a target.

His fury caught Mrs. Frederic by surprise and she raised an eyebrow. Artie continued his onslaught. "_You_ neglected to include us in the information about Steve being undercover, _you_ neglected to tell us you had a method to revive him when we told you he was murdered, and _you_ neglected to tell us the circumstances surrounding Walter Sykes until it was too late. I hold the Regents, and _you_," he said accusingly, "totally _responsible_ for the deaths of Agents Jinks and Wells!"

Artie raised a finger and pointed it at Mrs. Frederic as his voice darkened. "You and those Regents put lives at risk by keeping this team in the dark about details that were _crucial_ to the successful outcome of those events. I will not," his voice slowed as he repeated himself. "I will _not_, allow that mistake to continue. Not _this_ time." The buildup of anger-inspired energy released itself with the clanging of random artifacts flying off the surrounding shelves and slamming into others until eventually coming to rest on the ground near their feet.

Mrs. Frederic paused and spoke slowly as she responded. "I will remind you, Agent Nielsen, that all Warehouse Agents – including you, are the property of the U.S. government. What you know, and when you are _allowed_ to know it," she paused for emphasis. "… is determined not by me, not by the Regents, and most certainly not by you. We are told what we are told and it is always on a need-to-know, as well as a when-to-know-it, basis."

Artie's face contorted with anger. He started to speak and then stopped, twice, before closing his eyes and heaving a heavy sigh. When he finally spoke his tone was considerably softened. "You're right. You're right. I know it wasn't your fault. I'm sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I do not like the circumstances any more than you do. Nothing about how this situation was handled was sufficient, and the results we have _all_ suffered were predictable." She stepped in closer to Artie as she spoke. "Now is our chance to right those many wrongs."

Page | 8


	4. New Beginnings  Chapter 4

New Beginnings by Marcia Gaines

Chapter Four

Adwin Kosan walked quietly down the long desolate hallway. Overhead a line of halogen lights preceded him along his path. The only sound he heard came from the loud echoing footsteps the heels of his polished shoes created with each step he took along the white marble floor-tiles. He reached the metal doorway waiting for him at the end of the corridor and pressed his palm to the scanner located to the right of the doorframe. A moment later a buzzer sounded and he pulled the door open.

* * *

><p>Days after Pete and Myka returned with the Jones' locker Claudia found herself troubled. She sat at her laptop in deep concentration. Her hands rested on the keyboard and an image of Steve Jinks eerily stared out at her from her monitor causing her mind to wander. She had been watching his last recorded video for the umpteenth time and froze it at the point where he asked her to keep the faith. Something tugged at the back of her mind. His phrasing seemed odd to her. <em>He knew we would find this video if he died. He knew we would only watch it if he was already dead. Why would he ask me to keep the faith? Faith in what?<em> Claudia's thoughts raced with many questions, but few answers. _It couldn't be that he wanted to keep me from thinking he was a traitor. He knew we would find out from Mrs. Frederic or one of the Regents that they sent him undercover to gather information from Walter Sykes. So what was it Steve was trying to say?_ The question nagged at her. She checked her watch. Nine-thirty. Pete and Myka were out to breakfast and she wondered how much longer they would be. Claudia wanted to talk with them about the video. She looked back at the monitor and sighed. _Steve, what are you trying to tell me? _Her thoughts were interrupted with the cacophony of Pete and Myka's entrance from the Warehouse. They were arguing over something, and as usual when they bickered, they reverted to the behavior of siblings.

"No, you stop it," said Pete and lightly shoved Myka in the shoulder.

"No, you!" replied Myka who punched him in the arm. "You started it!"

"Ow!" cried Pete. "I did not! I didn't even touch your boobies that time!" He rubbed his shoulder where Myka slugged him and grumbled, "Are you sure you were an only child? You hit like you had brothers."

"Girls, girls, you're both pretty!" said Claudia as she spun around in her chair to face them.

"Oooh! I'm pretty!" Pete grinned and taunted Myka with schoolgirl-ish prance as he faux-primped his hair.

Myka grimaced and punched him in the shoulder one more time before saying, "Grow up!"

"Guys. Seriously. I want to show you something." Claudia motioned for them to join her at her laptop and she turned around to restart the video. Moments later Steve Jinks' familiar face began speaking to tell them about the investigation into Walter Sykes. Claudia paused the video after his statement to her. "That!" she said emphatically. "Right there. Don't you guys think that's just a little weird?"

Myka and Pete exchanged uncomfortable looks. "Weird how?" Myka asked. It never got any easier on Claudia whenever they discussed Steve's death. Over time they fell into the practice of avoiding the topic entirely to try to spare her. His death was hard on everyone, but it was hardest on her.

"'Keep the faith.'" She answered. "He said 'keep the faith' and I don't know why, but that just doesn't make sense."

"I don't follow," said Pete. He was trying to understand Claudia's train of thought, but failed to pick up on whatever it was she was trying to say.

Claudia took in a deep breath and said, "He told me to keep the faith, but faith in what? We were bound to find out he was on assignment. And he had to know we would never see the video unless he was already dead. So why tell me to keep the faith? Faith in what?" She looked from Pete to Myka and back again hoping they understood. "It doesn't make sense to me that he would say that. Does it make sense to you?" Myka cocked her head to the side and her eyes took on a far-away look as she processed Claudia's words. It was a familiar gesture Claudia had seen her do on countless occasions, and the tilted head lifted her spirits. Myka never did that unless she was on to something.

"Pete," Myka began. She said his name in the drawn-out tone she used whenever she was mid-thought and needed his input. "What was it the hospital said about the poison used to kill Steve?"

Pete looked up as he tried to remember. "Uh. I think they said it was something like a Yule log. No, wait. Yucca. No. Uhm. Yew?" He squinted his eyes, unsure if he was even on the right track.

"Yew," said Claudia, correcting him. "It was English Yew." She paused briefly then gave Pete a look of incredulity. "Yule log. Really?"

"I knew it was something like that," said Pete sheepishly. "Wait. I think I remember... they said the poison was probably very fast-acting. Steve didn't have more than a few minutes from the time of injection." He looked at Claudia who visibly winced as he spoke. "Sorry, Claud…" He placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

"Okay," Myka looked thoughtful. "So, the poison was fast-acting. We found him seated, no sign of a struggle." She glanced at Claudia who sat with her eyes closed. Myka looked up at Pete, her facial expression indicating she did not want to continue. "M-maybe we should talk about this later," she offered.

"No." Claudia opened her eyes and spoke in a strong and steady voice. "Whatever Steve wanted us to know…" She looked intently at the screen. "It's here. Somewhere. We just have to figure it out."

* * *

><p>Kasan entered through the doorway and was immediately greeted by the presence of two women and a man. They were dressed in business-attire, like Kasan, and nodded their welcome to him. One of the men presented him with a file. He flipped it open to start reading and took in the face of Steve Jinks on the photograph affixed to the inside cover. He quickly read through the first two pages and then paused a moment before silently closing the file. Without a word he began walking down another corridor, and the other three silently followed him.<p>

* * *

><p>Pete's cave was more active than usual. He sat in his recliner and stared at the whiteboard thinking through all the data points Myka had written. She paced back and forth in front of it with a marker in her hand; pausing only occasionally to scribble new information on the board. Claudia sat in the corner and flipped through numerous files stacked all around her. She turned periodically to look at the whiteboard to see if they were gaining ground in figuring out the mystery.<p>

Pete asked, "What's a Skyscraper got to do with the case, Mykes?"

Myka stopped pacing and said, "What?" She turned toward the whiteboard but could not determine what it was he was referencing.

Pete pointed at the board, "Right there. Between the big question mark and where you wrote 'Regent Sanctity'."

Claudia looked up as Pete spoke. _What the hell is Pete talking about?_ She thought. _Regent Sanctity? _She unfolded her legs and winced as her knees screamed at her for keeping them awkwardly bent for so long. She rose slowly and hobbled over to stand next to Myka.

"That's 'Regent Sanctum', Pete," Myka corrected him. "And the word in between isn't 'skyscraper', it's 'Sykes'."

Pete raised his eyebrows and stared at the board for a brief moment. "Wow, Myka. You have atrocious handwriting." Myka narrowed her eyes at him and went back to looking at the board.

"Do you see anything, Claudia?" Myka asked her. "Nothing is jumping out at me just yet. But, I think the answer lies somewhere in here," she said as she drew a circle around the phrase "long game". It was listed under the column labeled 'Skyes'. She walked to the other side of the board and circled the word 'Plan' which was its own column header and then drew a line between it and the other circle she drew. She stood back from the board and watched it, waiting for something to present itself. She reached toward her neck and let her hand wrap around the locket's chain as she studied the board. Claudia stepped closer to the writing and darted her eyes between the columns.

"Myka, let me have that marker," she said. Myka handed it to her and she drew an arrow from the middle of the connecting line Myka drew and inserted a third circle between the two others. She wrote the word, "poison" in the middle and handed the marker back to Myka. The two women stood staring at the board.

"I know the answer is there. I can feel it," said Pete from behind them. They both turned to look at him as he spoke. "Somewhere on that board is something Steve wanted us to know."

* * *

><p>The scanner near the door waited for Kosan to identify himself. He bent his face toward the small rectangular panel and looked straight ahead. The retinal beam searched his eye for a moment before letting off a small beep. He stood up and waited for the click of the lock. It was followed by a wooshing sound as the hermetic seal on the door broke. He looked at the group following him before opening the door and stepping inside. It was chilly, and their presence seemed to prompt some automatic refrigeration unit to infuse the room with more cold air. The overhead lights reflected off of numerous stainless steel surfaces that quickly began to resemble a bathroom mirror after a hot shower – their surfaces clouded by the change in temperature in the room. In the center of the room lay a single surgical bed. It was occupied by a body covered in a surgical sheet. Kosan walked to the table and folded back the sheet. He looked down into the face of Agent Steve Jinks.<p>

* * *

><p>"We're missing something," said Myka as she stared at the board. She took a deep breath and ran her hands through her hair. She was exhausted, and thinking about Steve and all of the circumstances surrounding his death in such detail was starting to drain her. Every twinge of emotion she felt about his loss only amplified her emotions about H.G. Wells, and it was wearing on her. Her hand found its way to the locket around her neck and she held it as she thought. <em>Oh, Helena, if you were here right now you would know the answer, <em>she thought. _What would you see if you looked at this board? _ _I bet you wouldn't even need a board, would you? You always did put information together quickly, and I truly miss solving these kinds of deductive challenges with you. _It was true, and Myka knew it.

One of her favorite things about H.G. was their mutual ability to reason their way through evidence and draw eerily accurate leads from what most saw as a chaotic mess of unrelated data points. It took her much more time to get to the same conclusions without Helena's help, and it was certainly far less fun. She smiled as she thought and an image of Helena coalesced in her mind. Myka let the image linger. She liked remembering Helena in a happy moment. Myka could even hear Helena's voice exclaiming "Aces!" The image was of the look on Helena's face when she discovered sticky notes for the first time. Helena's eyes had lit up like a child on Christmas morning as she marveled at the impossibility of their simple function. It was truly endearing to see such awe over such a small thing, and it would forever remain one of Myka's most cherished memories.

Myka sighed and bit her bottom lip as she placed the marker back on the tray attached to the board. She was of no use at the moment, and needed to clear her head. "Guys, I'll be right back. I need to get my mind thinking of something else. I think I'm concentrating too hard. I'm going to get in some target practice with the Tesla."

"Have fun," said Pete. "I'm going to help Claud organize our data files on Sykes. Maybe we'll get lucky and find something we've been missing." He and Claudia walked back to her make-shift duty station and started stacking folders into categorized piles.

"Okay," Myka said. Let me know if you come across anything." She walked out of the cave and headed for the targeting coil. She lost herself in thought as she walked. Ever since the Warehouse's return she felt like Helena's death loomed larger than it ever had before, and it was unsettling. As broken up as she was when it first happened, the way she felt lately eclipsed those early days. Back then, every time she thought of Helena she was filled with anger that she would so cavalierly sacrifice her own life. There had to be at least a hundred other options they could have tried without purposefully condemning any of them to die in that explosion. All they needed was just a little more time.

It took Myka weeks to accept Helena's choice. It took her longer to understand it. They were more alike than she ever really knew. Myka eventually realized that if circumstances had been different – if it had been she who could save Helena, but only at the cost of her own life, she would have done it without hesitation. Still, Myka could not help but question whether or not the trade made on that fateful day was a good one. Helena had given the world so much with her inventions, writings, and research. What had Myka, or any of them, given the world that could compare?

* * *

><p>Adwin Kosan held out a gloved hand until someone placed The Philosopher's Stone in it. It was much lighter than he thought it would be, and he turned it over in his hands contemplating the task ahead of him. He looked down at the body on the table and lifted the sheet over the left thigh just enough to reveal an ancient looking coin affixed with tape to the Agent's body. Kosan reached into his own jacket pocket and removed a small metallic clasp which he snapped into place around the Stone before lowering the conjoined artifacts in his hand until it touched the coin. He held it in place and waited.<p>

* * *

><p>Myka looked up as she reached the end of her aisle. She was facing the containment area. Somehow between leaving Pete's cave and coming to a stop, she subconsciously found her way to the one spot she had been avoiding since the day the Warehouse returned. She looked at the oval-shaped structure and felt a surge of anxiety. This was where she watched Helena die. The images and emotions began to stir as she willed herself forward toward the enclosure's entrance. She stepped inside and her eyes immediately sought out the area of the floor where Artie, Pete, and she stood during the explosion. There were no marks, no scorch marks, and no remnants of debris. It was as if nothing ever happened. She stood for a long while at the location where she last saw Helena, and her mind reeled with a slideshow of memories.<p>

Instinctively, she reached for the locket and held it while she thought. _Now that I am here, I can finally mourn. I can let it all go. I can let _her_ go. _She wept as her long-repressed emotions rose up like a river overflowing its banks. All her anger, fear, pain, and love spilled out and she allowed it to finally wash over her in overwhelming waves. She gripped the locket as she closed her eyes. _If I could just talk to her, again… if I could just say the things I was too afraid to say when I still had the chance. If I could tell her all the things I know she would have understood – the things I never told anyone; but, I could have told her. She was my closest friend, and no one ever knew me like she did. How do I pretend to be okay with knowing the only reason I live, today, is because she chose to die? _All her thoughts and regrets fought to be released, and she did not have the strength to hold them back.

So tumultuous was the cathartic experience that Myka did not realize just how tightly she gripped the locket until she noticed the drops of blood intermixed with her tears on the floor. She let go of the locket and immediately felt a sharp pain in her hand. She winced audibly and unfurled her fingers. A moderately-deep gash stared up at her from the middle of her left palm. _Damn it,_ she thought. _I forgot to file that edge down, and now I'm bleeding again._ She looked around for a bandage and spotted a first-aid kit hanging on the wall. She grabbed a large self-adhesive dressing and placed it over her cut.

* * *

><p>Light danced on the surface of The Philosopher's Stone making it shimmer with mesmerizing fluctuations. The coin it touched began a slow change of hue until eventually settling on a peculiar shade of green. The Stone flashed twice and the transmutation was complete. Kosan broke the two artifacts apart and handed the Stone to the woman of the silent group. She took it from him as he returned his gaze to the body and let the seconds pass. It did not take long for the coin to complete its work. Less than a minute later, Agent Steve Jinks opened his eyes.<p>

Page | 7


	5. New Beginnings  Chapter 5

New Beginnings by Marcia Gaines

Chapter Five

"Stasis?" asked Steve Jinks. "What do you mean I was in stasis?" He stared at Adwin Kosan. The fire in his eyes revealed a rising anger he was doing his best to conceal. It had been three days since he awoke in the morgue and, since then, he had been sequestered from anyone who could supply him with answers until now. He was determined to find out what happened and was refusing to cooperate until he did.

"As I was starting to explain, Agent Jinks," began Kosan. "We were correct to assume Walter Sykes had every intention of treating you as a loose-end." Kosan rose from behind his desk and walked toward Steve. "You were injected with a poison. Had it not been for Cleopatra's Coin, you would have died within mere minutes."

"Would? I _would_ have died?" yelled Steve. "I woke up in a morgue not fifty feet from here!" The look on his face showed his incredulity with the situation. "You _promised_ me!" Steve pointed an accusing finger at Kosan. "_You_ said you would keep track of me at all times, and at the first sign of danger you would pull me out!" He threw his hand backward with disgust. "So much for promises, huh?"

"Agent Jinks," was all Kosan could say before Steve exploded on him.

"Don't 'Agent Jinks', me!" he yelled. "I want to know. What _happened_ out there? Where was the cavalry? Where were the people who were supposedly looking out for me? Tell me, Kosan, where were _you_?" He struck Kosan's chest with the tip of his finger. Kosan looked down and then back up into Steve's face without flinching. Steve's voice took on a decidedly derisive tone as he continued his onslaught. "You sent me in there knowing the probability I could die – and all the while my team was kept in the dark. They couldn't have my back so _you_ were supposed to! That's what you told me!" His voice rose as his anger boiled into outrage.

"Where we were," replied Kosan in an even tone, "was trying to secure the safety of the Warehouse and the Agents trapped inside."

In an instant Steve's anger gave way to concern and his eyes widened with the realization Kosan's words presented. It never occurred to him Sykes might actually succeed with his plan to take down everyone and everything related to the Warehouse. "Oh God, what happened? Who was trapped inside? Is anyone hurt? Please tell me everyone is okay." He pleaded with his eyes as well as his voice.

"There was, unfortunately, a loss of life." Stated Kosan. Steve's face fell.

_People died,_ he thought. _After everything I did to try to protect my friends and the Warehouse, it still wasn't enough. _H_e_ turned to face the wall as he asked his next question. "Who? Claudia? Is she okay?" He braced himself for the answer.

"We lost Ms. Wells… regrettably. Ms. Donovan, however, is fine. Everyone else is fine." Steve sighed and his face registered his relief, but his look remained troubled. He barely got to know Helena before his world went black, but he knew she was in grave danger. Sykes went to a lot of trouble to secure Emily Lake and the Janus Coin. H.G. Wells was the key to Sykes' master plan, and Steve hoped his revelation to Claudia and the team had given them enough time to prepare. He only wished he had more time to explain everything. Sykes was not just determined. He was also very thorough. In the moments before losing consciousness Steve learned how thorough.

"Sykes?" asked Steve as he turned to face Kosan.

"Mr. Sykes died." Answered Kosan. He failed to emerge from the portal between the Sanctum and the Warehouse before the connection was severed. "It's over," he said with finality.

Steve contemplated Kosan's face before his own darkened. "No," he said gravely. "It's not."

* * *

><p>Claudia and Pete poured over files for over an hour looking for anything to shed light on the connection between Steve's message to Claudia and Sykes' plan against them. They added a few more notes to the board, but for the most part were unable to find anything conclusive. Nothing stood out to either of them. Although Claudia remained on task and diligently kept looking through the piles of folders, Pete's frustration got the best of him. He gave up mining for information and plopped down in the recliner with a comic book to take his mind off the hunt for information. Just as he opened the cover to his special first edition of "Manhunter", Myka walked into the room.<p>

"Did you guys find anything?" she asked them as her eyes swept the room.

"Nope," said Pete. "Big fat bupkis." Claudia looked at him and then at Myka before adding her own thoughts.

"I feel like Mr. Magoo trying to play Pin the Tail on the Donkey," she lamented. "There's nothing we can find." She tossed an open folder to the side.

"I was thinking…" Myka replied and walked to the board. She looked over the columns of jotted notes. "When Steve said 'keep the faith' he was speaking in present-tense. He meant for us to keep an active faith, and I think it's safe to assume he meant to keep the faith in _him_. And that means, he wanted us to believe things weren't as bad as we might think they were." Pete closed his comic book and stood. He walked over to Myka and was joined by Claudia a moment later. "And since we know he made the video only in the event of his death…" her voice trailed off, but Pete picked up on her thought.

"Then it wouldn't make sense for him to say that…" Pete looked at Myka and they exchanged glances.

"Unless…" she said, "he knew his death wouldn't matter." Myka looked at Pete and a smile spread across her face.

"Wouldn't matter…" Claudia looked back and forth between Pete and Myka. "Wouldn't matter? In what universe would it not matter?" Claudia's confusion filled her voice.

"Remind me to remind you to go for target practice the next time we're stumped," said Pete. "Claud, it doesn't matter because Jinksy never intended on _staying_ dead."

"Wait. What?" Claudia asked.

Myka's smile grew into an ear-to-ear grin as she spoke. "Think about it. It's the only thing that makes sense! If he knew he wasn't going to _really_ die, then his message to you makes complete sense. 'Keep the faith', Claudia. He was telling you not to worry because he knew he'd be back at some point."

"Yep! Ole Steve-o is alive-o," said Pete happily.

"How do you know?" Claudia asked skeptically. She wanted more than anything to believe Steve was alive, but it was hard for her to understand how he could be. She remembered his lifeless body, all color drained, sitting in the chair at Sykes' airport hangar. She remembered when the Regent's staff members showed up and took charge of him. There were hardly any words exchanged as they moved him to the stretcher and transported him to the hospital in the back of the unmarked hearse. When the hospital staff met them at the morgue Claudia heard them pronounce Steve as 'dead on arrival'. It was impossible for her mind to wrap around the idea he could be anything but dead, but she desperately wanted to believe he could be alive.

"That is what we don't know," said Myka in response.

"It has to be an artifact," Pete said. "Right? I mean that's the only thing it could be."

"There's a way to find out for sure," said Claudia with hope in her voice. "Let's check the manifest!" She headed toward the Warehouse office with Pete and Myka trailing her.

* * *

><p>Adwin Kosan sat quietly. He folded his fingers together and closed his eyes, pausing for the briefest of moments before he spoke. "You are sure of this?"<p>

Steve nodded and said, "Yes. That's what Sykes and Marcus discussed at the hangar. I tried to ask questions to get more detail, and I think that might have been what tipped them off." Steve grew somber. All he wanted to do when he heard their full plan was to make a phone call to try to warn everyone at the Warehouse, but that was impossible to do with Marcus always keeping an eye on him. So he sat and listened and tried to remember as much as he could, but none of that ended up mattering. Marcus injected him and he never had the chance to put up much of a struggle. His world went dark too quickly, and the next thing he knew he was in a freezing cold morgue. The thought of it made Steve shiver. It was one thing to have a near-death experience. It was another to be pronounced dead and placed in cold storage.

"Do you have any more details than this?" Kosan looked at him over the top of his folded fingers. Distinct concern tugged at his face and brought a slight scowl to his face.

"No, that's all I know," said Steve. "With the Warehouse back in operation, it may already be too late."

"Yes. Most likely it is." Kosan stood and looked at Steve. "Agent Jinks. I _am_ glad you're okay. I want you to know that. Working for the Warehouse is a dangerous thing – for everyone. We do our best to mitigate against circumstances whenever possible, but there are times when even our best efforts fail." He paused to consider his words and placed his hand on Steve's shoulder. "You put yourself in harm's way and gave the ultimate sacrifice. There are no words to thank you enough for your service." Steve looked at his hand and then at Kosan. He gave a slight nod of acknowledgement.

"There's only one thing that matters right now," said Steve as he stood. Kosan headed for the door and Steve followed.

* * *

><p>Claudia led the way into the office with Pete and Myka trailing her. Artie was seated at his desk and was intently checking news reports and videos on the internet. He often browsed online data streams looking for strange patterns or other unusual events. More than once they found cases through his efforts rather than waiting for a ping to come to them through typical channels. He glanced up at them as they came through the door and lowered his head again as he went back to browsing. Claudia rushed to her desk and flipped open the lid to her laptop. Pete and Myka came to a stop behind her.<p>

"Artie?" she asked. "Do you know of any artifacts that can prevent someone from dying?"

Artie lifted his head and swiveled his chair to face them. "Why? What are you three up to?" he asked with an air of skepticism in his voice.

"We think Steve may have had an artifact with him when he died," answered Myka as she stared at Claudia's screen.

"When he _didn't_ die, you mean," offered Pete as he gave Artie a knowing look.

"What does that mean?" asked Artie.

"It means, we don't think Steve is dead," came Claudia's reply. "We're looking for an artifact that could have prevented him from dying that day. Do you know of any that could do that?" She looked up at Artie as she spoke.

Artie was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He was under orders not to disclose what he knew about Steve, but he also knew his team. They were dedicated and they were smart. They were onto something, and now that they knew where to look it was just a matter of time before they figured it out for themselves. Moments like these annoyed him to no end. His face reflected his inner-conflict and he turned around to avoid letting too much show, but it was too late. Pete was the first to speak.

"Artie, what is it?" Pete watched him turn away. He knew Artie's facial expressions and could tell there was something Artie was not telling them.

"Do you know something, Artie?" Myka said picking up on Artie's hesitation.

"Spill, old man," demanded Claudia as she stopped typing and joined in on the interrogation. They stared at the back of Artie's head and watched him heave a large sigh.

"It's alright, Artie. You may as well tell them now that they're this close." Mrs. Frederic's voice filled the silence.

"Gah! Just…" said a startled Pete as he spun around in the direction of the voice. "Stop that! Geeze!" A few seconds later he added, "When did _you_ get here?" Mrs. Frederic gave him a silent stare in reply.

"Tell us…what?" Myka looked at Mrs. Frederic and then at Artie.

Artie turned around and looked briefly at Mrs. Frederic before answering. "Yes. Steve had an artifact that saved his life." He took in the astonished faces of the team. "Steve is alive."

* * *

><p>"Something is wrong," said Jane Lattimer. She was seated in a large leather chair in an adjoining office to Adwin Kosan's. She held up her right arm displaying her Guardian's bracelet.<p>

"What's the matter, Jane?" asked Kosan in a concerned voice. He walked to the chair and looked at her wrist. The bracelet did not look to be active or abnormal in any way.

"I don't know," she said. "I just feel… odd. Something just seems… off."

Steve Jinks looked at the bracelet and asked, "Is that the bracelet that put up the shield around the Warehouse?"

Jane nodded and said, "Yes, Agent Jinks, it is. When the Warehouse is in immediate danger, this bracelet activates a protective barrier." She rubbed her wrist as she spoke. "It does many things, but it is the final defense of the Warehouse if all else fails."

"When you say you feel odd, what do you mean?" Kosan sat in a chair opposite to Jane. He took in Jane's countenance and decided she did not seem to be in any immediate danger, but she did look tired and her furrowed brow indicated she did not like whatever it was she was feeling.

"It's hard to describe," she looked at him. "It's like I pulled a muscle, or a tendon, or something. It's better than it was. When it started all I wanted to do was cut the bracelet off, but now it's really just a mild ache." She rubbed her wrist again. "I don't think it's serious, and if it keeps decreasing in intensity, I doubt I'll even notice anything in a day or two; but, the thing bothering me is that ever since the Warehouse returned I've been feeling like everything is just a little out of sync." Kosan turned his gaze to the floor. He knew what this meant and it was not a good sign. The Guardian for the Warehouse was tied to the building in ways few people understood, but he was one of those few.

"What you are feeling," Kosan said, "I think I know what it is. You are fine. The Warehouse is not."

"In what way?" asked Steve.

Kosan paused before speaking. He was not entirely sure how to explain the issue. "It is likely all was not returned the way it should have been." He looked to Jane as he spoke. "With the reaction you are having being as mild as it is, it is nothing severe. However, it is almost certain some level of continuity has been broken at the Warehouse location. When Agent Nielsen brought the Warehouse forward, we knew there was likely to be some sort of repercussion, but we could not anticipate what it might be."

"Continuity." Said Steve. "What do you mean, how can continuity be changed at the Warehouse?"

"I'm afraid I really don't know, Agent Jinks," replied Kosan. "But, I think I know someone who might."

* * *

><p>Claudia reacted to Artie's news about Steve with a predictable outrage. "You KNEW?" She yelled in his direction. "You KNEW he was alive and you didn't tell us? What the hell, Artie?" She was joined by Myka and Pete who were also angry, but more controlled in their responses. They demanded to know more. When the volume reached levels making it impossible to distinguish what anyone said, Mrs. Frederic silence the room.<p>

"Calm down!" She ordered as looked at the members of the team. "Artie didn't know until very recently, and he was ordered not to reveal any information about Agent Jinks' circumstances." They all looked at one another, but continued to glare at Artie.

"It was deemed in the best interests of Agent Jinks and the Warehouse, for his status to remain classified." Mrs. Frederic tried to explain but no one was sympathetic to her words.

"Classified? That's what got Steve killed in the first place!" said Pete accusingly. "He died _alone_. He died for nothing. He was cut off from all of us and died alone at the hands of a psychopath because we were kept in the dark in the first place!" Pete's anger was controlled but clearly evident. He was incensed to learn the Regents were still playing a game of secrets in the face of all that had so recently happened.

"Where is he?" asked Myka. The tension in the room bothered her, and she wanted to give them all something else to think about instead of their own anger.

"He is in a secure location," was all Mrs. Frederic answered.

"Where?" Claudia asked pointedly.

"At an undisclosed location," replied Mrs. Frederic flatly.

"Oh for crying out loud," lamented Pete. "This is ridiculous!" He threw his hands in the air. "What reason could you _possibly_ have to keep his location secret at this point?"

"We have no way of knowing what Sykes had planned," said Artie.

"Sykes?" asked Pete. "Walter Sykes? It's been three months since Dr. Evil blew up the Warehouse, Artie. I watched him walk into that portal. I'm the one who cut the electricity and shut it down before he got through to the other side. He never got far enough to even put a foot in the Sanctum! Walter Sykes is dead," he finished.

"No, actually, he's not." Steve Jinks closed the door to the umbilicus as he stepped into the office. Everyone stared at him in complete shock. Steve looked around and said, "Walter Sykes is still alive."

Page | 10


	6. New Beginnings  Chapter 6

New Beginnings by Marcia Gaines

Chapter Six

Everyone in the room fell completely silent at the news Steve Jinks delivered. Walter Sykes was alive. The impossibility of the news took time to process, and as it did the questions followed. Artie was the first to speak. "Alive? You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm fairly certain of it," said Steve. "Sykes had a contingency in the event he made it into the Warehouse but couldn't get back out before the bomb exploded. It was some sort of…" he was cut off in mid-sentence by the sound of Claudia's voice as she entered the room.

"Steve!" she yelled when she saw him, and ran toward him with excitement. She threw her arms around him and babbled, "!" He laughed and hugged her back enthusiastically, as happy to see her as she was to see him. Tears flowed from Claudia's eyes as the overwhelming joy swept through her. Seeing her old partner alive was the last thing she thought this day would bring, and all she could do was hug him tighter and tighter with each passing moment.

"I missed you, too, Claud" Steve said good-naturedly. Artie and Pete walked over to greet him. Artie laid his hand on Steve's back and smiled at Steve and Claudia. He walked back to his desk without saying a word. Pete was next.

"It's good to see you, man," Pete said and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. "Really good."

"Yeah, it is," said Myka who gave Steve an awkward hug as she reached around Claudia. She stepped back and walked to the other side of the room to give them space.

"You, guys, too," Steve said and smiled. He pulled himself away from Claudia who was smiling more broadly than he had ever seen her smile.

"Welcome back, Agent Jinks," said Mrs. Frederic. Steve looked at her and nodded. He never knew what to say when she spoke to him, but in the moment he was not concerned with how odd he found her to be. He was happy and rejoicing with his fellow teammates. He was alive and they were alive. He could not have asked for anything better.

Myka watched the revelry and smiled weakly. They were so happy, and she wanted to be happy with them, but her own emotions had other plans. Once again her hand found its way to the locket, now hanging from her neck. Her mind wandered to thoughts of Helena, and how wonderful it would be if she were able to welcome her back to the team. _How do you say goodbye to the one person who knows you better than anyone else?_ She heard Helena's voice as she remembered back to the words they spoke in the forest. Instantly the face of H.G. Wells appeared before her. _I wish I knew,_ Myka had replied to the question. _I still wish I knew,_ she thought. She looked at Steve and Claudia, arms draped around each other, laughing, and smiling, and felt a pang in the pit of her stomach. She heard the conversation shift to Sykes being alive and about an artifact, but she was so lost in thought none of it registered. Not until Pete tugged on her arm did she even notice the room was empty.

"Mykes… you okay?" asked Pete in a concerned voice.

"Hm?" She stopped twirling her hair. "What? Oh. Yes. Yeah, I'm fine. Where's everyone gone?" She asked.

"Did you not hear that whole explanation Steve just gave us? That Sykes might actually have escaped the explosion using the freaking red slippers from the Wizard of Oz of all things?" Pete's eyes widened as he mentioned the slippers. "Well, I guess, technically he used the _rubies_ that were in the red slippers." He scrunched his face as he tried to think. "Or would it be _on_ the slippers? The rubies that were _in_ the slippers or the rubies that were _on_ the slippers?"

"Pete!" Myka exclaimed impatiently.

"Right. Probably on," he answered. She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Yeah, uh, they went to that locker we brought back. Mrs. Frederic said she wanted Leena to help her figure something out." Myka nodded her head in acknowledgement and headed toward the door.

"You coming?" she called out to him without turning. Pete scurried to catch up with her.

* * *

><p>Helena Wells could see almost nothing save the ever spinning mixture of so many colors. Together they made, not for darkness as some might have thought, but for a brilliant shimmering rainbow spiraling inward toward an even brighter blindingly-white vortex from which they never returned. She knew this meant she was seeing the adding of energy to energy until the combined mixture blended together to form too much color. Occasionally wisps and mists of varying shades moved past her on their journey to the great collaboration, souls seeking solace together after too much time alone in the paradoxical environment enveloping them.<p>

Here, as close to an afterlife as anything Helena might have imagined, the souls of wretched and noble alike came together; the flotsam of history's artifacts united in eternal lamenting repose. She sat contemplating the impossibility of what she had seen and learned since being there. She met few, so far, who could remember much of their time amongst the living. Most who could still remember gathered at the other end of the great corridor, where color absorbed into ominous darkness. Like an ethereal sponge, the collection of gathered souls took into itself every glimmer from beyond the divide. The sea of them turned in unison, first one way and then another, riding the incoming current of thought and emotion from their individual loved ones. Each observer was held entranced by visions and thoughts only they could see – enraptured not by a private heaven, but by a collective hell.

What else would someone call it, thought Helena. She looked behind her and wondered how many essences crowded in to that small space trying to make themselves seen or heard to those yet living. The desperation for one last connection consumed them as they writhed and roiled before the boundary. They were the newly dead, she learned, and would continue to gather so long as the world still called to them. They each had wives or husbands, sons or daughters, loved ones, and many other things which would one day cease to burden them. For now, however, they filled the one-way portal staring longingly into the world beyond forever wanting a return they could never obtain. Whatever hopes and dreams they knew in life were transposed in the strange place so that, like an underwater earthquake, the displaced emotions sent waves of sorrow into their midst. Having stood in front of it long enough, she could think of no greater misery.

Helena had someone who missed her, she knew, but she did not want to spend her eternity gazing outward hoping for something that could never be given. She chose her destiny when she gave her life to save the only person in the world who meant anything to her. Since arriving in this community she came to realize Myka grieved her passing far beyond that of a mere friend; she could feel it stronger in some moments, and she learned from others how the grief of loved ones left behind called like a siren to those with willing hearts. Helena had not known better when she first arrived. She went to the portal the first few times it beckoned her, and learned quickly that she did not need another eternity frozen from action while her mind longed for different circumstances. She had gone that route once already; there was nothing inside of her wanting to relive that experience.

The sight of Myka night after night silently weeping until finally succumbing to her dreams did nothing to encourage Helena to remain at the portal. For her, watching Myka's suffering was as torturous as watching Myka's desires. She stopped distinguishing between the two long ago. Helena did not know which was worse – hearing her name called out when Myka pleasured herself, or hearing it when Myka fought her nightmares. In either case, she was unable to take action now. She would never be able to bring Myka either kind of relief and the sinking in her heart whenever the connection was broken only left her feeling worse. The awareness in death of what her beautiful counterpart felt for her stirred a myriad of regrets, but in some small way she found solace in knowing the unspoken emotion they felt for one another was mutual.

Too often the images drew her in, irresistible and alluring in all they revealed. It did not matter how much she wanted to avoid the portal, she found herself drawn there over and over again. Her nexus she shared with Myka was still too strong. It was only when Myka's thoughts were elsewhere, as they were now, that Helena found rest. It was the only time she could clear her mind enough to determine her actions. The dark end of the corridor was for others, she decided. For Helena, the image of Myka's face – the soft smile she wore along with the unmistakable look of love in her eyes, that image just moments before the end was what she would keep with her for eternity. Her mind made up, she began the slow walk to the great white vortex. If she would spend eternity here, she would rather it be with those who had found enough peace to let their pasts go.

* * *

><p>Leena stared into the locker with intense concentration. She turned her head one way and then another as the others watched her. She placed her hands on either side of it and let her eyes take in every nuance they encountered. Pete started to speak but was silenced by Mrs. Frederic's icy stare. He fidgeted as Leena continued her long examination.<p>

"There are an amazing number of souls in there," she said at last. "I can see them. It takes a while to make out distinct ones, but whatever is on the other side, it's enormous." Mrs. Frederic nodded her head as if she was hearing what she expected.

"Now tell me, Leena, are you able to make out anyone with a… void," she gave Artie a knowing look. His eyebrows knit together for a moment before relaxing as her meaning struck him.

"The Collodi Bracelet," he explained to Leena. "It leaves a darkness, robs the wearer of love. Never to give or receive it… in its place there would simply be," he looked up at the rest of the team as he spoke, "…nothing." Leena looked into the locker again. So great were her focus and concentration she completely missed the conversation behind her as Pete and Myka arrived. Their initial questions answered, they joined silent vigil awaiting Leena's observations. Myka looked into the locker and thought again of what it represented. It held all the souls of those killed due to a direct interaction with an artifact.

She thought of Sam and recalled how the barometer from the USS Eldridge played a role in his death. He was not, however, held in the locker. He met his death at the end of a gun, the artfact's role was merely incidental. She stared into the emptiness thinking of Helena, imagining her face as she did every night in her dreams. She could still see her sorrowful eyes as they looked at her from across the barrier. In her mind's eye Myka watched her and felt, again, the freezing terror of those last moments. It was an image she wished she could forget, but it was singed into her memory. She would give anything to see her again, and the thought she might never feel anything else haunted her. Myka's thoughts elicited a heavy sigh and Claudia gave her a quick sympathizing hug before releasing her. The young agent recognized the look on Myka's face having worn it herself so many times as she thought of Steve.

* * *

><p>Helena stopped moving. It was there again, she could feel Myka thinking of her. She turned around and faced the far end of the corridor. She was too far away to know for certain whether it was pleasure or pain that called to her, but she knew she could not resist. She moved toward the writhing mass of darkness knowing only that whatever awaited her, she would walk away feeling empty and alone.<p>

* * *

><p>Leena jerked back and looked at something as if it moved between the locker and the team. Her eyes traced an unseen line straight to Myka before tracing along the same route back to the locker. She shifted her stance and stepped back before repeating the behavior a few times. Each pass of her eyes followed the unseen line as it went to Myka and back again. Claudia caught on quickly realizing Leena was seeing something no one else could view.<p>

"What is it?" she asked. Myka turned and wiped at her eyes.

"I'm not sure," said Leena and started walking slowly toward Myka. She chose her steps carefully, avoiding what she saw as a translucent light-pink beam of light oscillating between Myka and the locker until she stood shoulder to shoulder with the tall somber agent. Myka looked at her questioningly, but Leena said nothing. She simply stood watching the energy as it ebbed and flowed.

"What is it, Leena?" Mrs. Frederic asked and took a step toward her. Leena's gaze did not flinch until that moment. She shook her head and looked into Myka's face with wonder before turning to face Mrs. Frederic.

"I've never seen anything like it." Leena folded her hands in front of her and looked upwards as she paused. "It's beautiful," she finally said offering no other commentary.

"But did you see the void?" Mrs. Frederic insisted. Leena shook her head and closed her eyes with a smile.

"No, I didn't. Whatever you're looking for isn't in there." She turned to Myka and smiled. "But what you seek, is."

"Uh. Come again?" Claudia asked with apprehension in her voice. She had spent enough time around Leena to know the innkeeper's take on metaphysical matters did not always bode well.

"She," Leena leaned her head toward Myka, "has not yet let go of devotion. And it has not let go of her, either." Pete, Steve, and Artie looked perplexed and started peppering Leena with questions, but she fended them off answering in her usual mysterious way. Myka heard none of it, however. The last thing she heard was Leena's cryptic message telling her that H.G. Wells was in there, and that the connection between them was unbroken. Was this why her thoughts of the other woman seemed so much more vivid lately? Was H.G. still trying to communicate? What did Leena mean?

Myka's feet moved as if by a will of their own until she stood directly in front of the locker. The voices behind her continued, but she let them fade from her consciousness as she gazed into the container. She placed her left hand flat against the inside of the locker and reached up with her right hand to grip the heirloom around her neck. Helena was here, she thought. She was in this container somewhere. Her eyes moved desperately across the back of the box as she felt for any opening – any way to remove the barrier separating them.

* * *

><p>Helena froze. Filling the entirety of the portal was Myka's flickering image. The dark mass of souls parted and made way for her only to come together as she passed. The movement was as if some personal force-field cleared the way so she could make her way to the front. Helena stood before the portal and lifted her hand to meet Myka's. The barrier between them shimmered like molten glass.<p>

* * *

><p>"What are you doing?" Artie yelled at Myka. He lunged for her and pulled her away as forcefully as he could. Myka reached out toward the locker as she lost her balance and fell to the ground. The impact of her fall forced out a grunt of complaint, and when she finally regained her feet it was to find herself being dressed down by her boss.<p>

"YOU WILL NOT GO NEAR THAT THING AGAIN, DO YOU HEAR ME?" he yelled. Pete gave a sympathetic flinch, and tried to distract Artie to no avail. "UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE YOU TO ATTEMPT WHATEVER IT WAS YOU JUST DID!" He was positively fuming. Spittle formed on his lips and he sputtered it into the air in front of him as he continued. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT ALMOST JUST HAPPENED? DO YOU? WELL DO YOU?"

Myka cowered under the glaring onslaught and was saved only by Claudia who stepped in front of Artie while brandishing one of the hoses used to spray down artifacts. Artie stopped mid-yell and focused his attention on Claudia. His voice took a decidedly sinister tone. "What are you doing? Get that thing away from me."

"I don't think so, Mr. Mad-goo. You calm yourself down right now, or I'll be forced to deal with all that negative energy you're releasing into the Warehouse." He raised his hands as if he wanted to wring her neck and she raised the hose in defense. "Don't make me do it! I'll do it, I swear I will!" The standoff between them broke when Steve addressed the group.

"Guys. C'mon, seriously, don't we have more important things to do here?" He was tired. He had been through an extreme level of emotional upheaval over the last week and he did not have the energy for their bickering. He barely had the energy to be in this Warehouse, but his loyalty to his team and to their cause drove him to complete their mission to stop Sykes and save the Warehouse. "Mrs. Frederic, can't you…" He turned to enlist Mrs. Frederic's help, but she was nowhere to be found. "Right. Nevermind." He shook his head and sighed.

"Mykes…" Pete looked at his partner with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Pete, I'm fine." She answered him and stared past him to the locker. Whatever connection she felt, it was gone now.

* * *

><p>Helena let the darkness envelope her until it pushed her back into the empty corridor. Her entire body shook and she sat to collect herself. She racked her brain trying to understand what just happened. One moment she was feeling Myka's thoughts, and the next she could have sworn she actually felt her hand. She lifted her right arm and stared at it. She nimbly touched each of her fingers one by one against her thumb. They tingled. She looked toward the portal and saw only the familiar darkness. It had never shimmered like that before, had it? She asked herself the question and ran through her memories of all the times she stood before it. No, that was a first. She had been touching Myka's hand, she was sure of it.<p>

Page | 8


	7. New Beginnings  Chapter 7

New Beginnings by Marcia Gaines

Chapter Seven

Helena sat squarely in front of the portal thinking deeply about the encounter with Myka. The pool of darkness swirled in front of her reminiscent of newly spilled ink against fresh paper. She watched it, eyes unfocused, as she mulled over recent events. In this strange afterlife such interactions were not just rare, they were the leftover rumors of myths shrouded in mysterious legend. Everyone had a story to relate. Supposed escapes believed to have happened to this person or that, whom no one could remember having met, were shared with her in passing. But the stories seemed overly fantastical and they all missed one vital element. She wiggled the fingers of her right hand and felt the fading reminder of her experience. It was not likely any of the stories were credible. She was not even sure her own experience was credible. She looked at the portal more closely, seeking evidence rather than directionless observation. Somehow she made a physical connection with Myka. She felt her. The white vortex was but a distant thought quickly dismissed in light of her discovery. There would be no rest for her now, not until she found a way to make that connection permanent.

* * *

><p>Myka turned in earlier than usual and lay in bed contemplating the day's events while rubbing the fingers of her left hand. She could no longer feel the memento of her brush with Davy Jones' Locker, but it played like a movie reel in her head. Helena was in there trapped on the other side of some undetectable curtain, and she tried to make contact. Myka had only one thought playing in her mind; she would find a way to talk with Helena if it killed her. According to Artie any sort of interaction like she had earlier could very well cost her life, but he was sometimes prone to hyperbole and she already knew Helena would never do anything to hurt her. If Helena was trying to reach her, there could be no danger. She glanced at the clock and sighed when she saw it was not yet even nine o'clock. With her mind racing as it was there was no way she was going to get any sleep.<p>

She dressed and made her way downstairs. The rest of the team was in the dining room and she could hear the usual bantering that was a constant companion through their meals. She took care to avoid being seen and she walked toward the hall closet. Myka glanced at the common sitting area and paused. She thought of the many nights she found Helena reading near the fireplace with only a cup of tea to keep her company. The familiar pain she usually felt when thinking of the misplaced time traveler failed to hit her, and she smiled realizing she had hope for the first time in months. She grabbed her coat from where it hung and quietly made her way out of the building. After the confrontation with Artie earlier she had no desire to cause a recurrence.

When she pulled into her parking area at the Warehouse she focused on just one desire. She was heading for the locker to see Helena.

* * *

><p>Helena ran through various recollections. She compared each of them to the events of the occurrence earlier. None of it made sense. No matter what scenario she examined she could find no indication of what created the circumstances allowing her to physically break the barrier between life and death. Helena's thoughts raced, and she needed something to give them order. She turned to the one method that always worked – her problem solving skills. One by one she moved through the elementary steps of deductive reasoning applying various inherent laws and sorting through the observed details. She navigated through her plethora of "if-then" statements, mixing and matching them until she exhausted every configuration she could imagine. Her ending results were the positive conclusions that Myka was alive and she was dead. For all her love of deductive reasoning techniques, sometimes the exercise irritated her.<p>

Beginning again, she looked at the portal considering what she knew as the arguments and conclusions formed in her mind. If the boundary could be broken, and Myka had broken it even just temporarily, then it stood to reason something specific to Myka was the cause. But what? She considered their affinity for one another and quickly dismissed it concluding emotion was not unique amidst her fellow captives. So what would set Myka and herself apart from them?

* * *

><p>Myka walked slowly to the receiving area for the Warehouse. Newly acquired artifacts yet to be entered into standard inventory sat waiting for inspection. Atop one of the crates, standing on edge as it had earlier in the day, sat the locker. The lid was still open making it look more like a small closet than a chest. She lay her jacket on one of the crates and ran her hand up one of the locker's panels. The wood was gnarled but smooth from its years of use. Weathered brass reinforced each corner revealing a rich patina in the crevices of the metalwork. It was larger than she thought it would be, and yet far too small to match the dimensions Leena described for the container it truly was.<p>

She stood in front of it and thought again of the connection she felt earlier in the day. She waited, but nothing happened. She peered into the box and looked for any sign of life. Again nothing happened. Furrowing her brow she placed one hand against the back panel as she had previously. What was the problem? She spent the next hour trying every possible method she could think of to recreate the feeling from earlier in the day. Nothing worked. When she finally gave up in frustration she swore loudly and hit the side of the box with her hand. The sound echoed down the aisle causing more than one item on the shelves to noisily voice their protest.

"Myka?" Leena's inquiring voice called out to her. Myka turned and greeted her with genuine surprise.

"L-Leena! Hi. What are you… What are you doing here?" The question came out more defensively than she intended. "I thought you were busy in the other room."

"I was," she said. "But, I saw your car through the kitchen window." She looked at Myka and then at the open locker. "I figured you were coming here." Myka looked away avoiding Leena's gaze. "Didn't you hear what Artie said, Myka? That locker is dangerous for you. For all we know it's dangerous _because_ of you." Her voice fell with compassion as she saw the pained look her reminder elicited.

"I just, I wanted to see…" she started before Leena interrupted her.

"You wanted to see if you could re-establish that connection." It was not a question. Myka sighed and remembered how much Leena already knew. As her only confidante Leena spent many hours comforting Myka in her grief over losing Helena, and had dried many of her tears. "You never lost it."

"Yeah, I did." Myka whispered. Leena shook her head, but let the argument go. There was no use in trying to explain what she saw. Though it seemed weaker now, drifting in and out of visibility for her, the wispy connection between Myka and the locker was still there. Now that she knew what to look for she noticed it even back at the Inn, but she kept the knowledge to herself.

"I know I said I'd leave it alone, Leena. I know what Artie said." Myka began pacing. "But what if he's wrong? What if _I_ don't believe it's a portal to another dimension? I didn't see anything change."

"No, but we did." Her voice was gentle as she spoke. "Even though Artie overreacted, his concern was real. Destroying that barrier would unleash hundreds – probably thousands – of angry souls into the world. We can't do it." She paused and chose her next words carefully. "Not for any reason."

Myka's pacing grew more harried and she gestured with her hands as she spoke. "I know. I know! I… I just wish I could explain what it was like. I touched her, Leena. I know I _touched_ her!" The earnestness in her voice was matched only by the intensity of her expression. "She's in there, isn't she?" Myka looked at her with eyes pleading for confirmation. Leena studied her before answering with a nod.

"It doesn't change anything, Myka." Leena's voice was steady.

"It changes _everything_, Leena. Don't you see that? H.G. is in there," she pointed toward the locker. "She's in there, and she's trying to reach me." Myka stopped pacing and looked out over the Warehouse as her emotions flared. "It's not right. It's not right! She should never have died. She shouldn't be in there."

"But she is," Leena said with a rattling finality. "She gave her life for you."

Myka whirled to face her. "No! Sykes TOOK her life." She spat the words in her fury. "H.G. would be alive right now if not for _him_! She didn't give her life for me. She had it taken from her!"

Leena paused a long moment before responding. "Yes," she finally said. "And now she is with countless others who also died in unfair circumstances. But, Myka, she made the choice. And if she hadn't, you wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be here. None of us would be here. She saved us all." The words stung. She wished people would stop reminding her that Helena made that choice because of her; she was at fault for the painful loss.

Everyone acknowledged Helena's sacrifice. They all credited her with saving their lives, but only one person turned the pain inward. Only one person heard the words echo repeatedly, "It was the only way I could think of to save you," and knew what they meant. And if Leena and she were talking of anyone other than H.G. Wells she might have been able to hold back her frustrated tears. Instead, she let them fall and sank to her knees. She let herself admit there might not be any hope left, and the tears fell harder. The complexity of her emotion unraveled with the kind of anguish that cleaves a heart in two. Her shoulders shook with the strain of her sorrow and she took heaving desperate breaths when her body allowed. She was a woman finally undone.

Leena knelt quietly beside her, saying nothing, and laid a hand on her back in small comfort. It was a simple gesture, but the compassion in it was real.

* * *

><p>Helena's lip hurt from biting it so hard as she watched Myka's emotional breakdown. She placed her hands against the boundary and pushed with all her might. It was no use. She could not penetrate the barrier's integrity in any way. It remained an unspoiled testament to the divide between life and death. Helena stood watching Myka's tears and listened to her despair. She would have died a thousand deaths rather than be the cause of so much pain. The irony of the thought did not escape her, but neither did it change reality. No matter who or what set those fateful steps in motion, in the end it was her death that tormented Myka.<p>

She watched Leena try to comfort the anguished agent, and thanked her with words Leena would never hear. At least Myka had someone who shared in her agony. To think anyone might bear such a burden alone, as she herself did for so many years, was a difficult proposition. When the connection broke and Leena finally managed to get Myka to her feet, Helena turned and walked into the corridor away from the portal. She vowed then and there to end Myka's suffering. If they had a connection, as Leena said, then severing it was the only way to bring Myka peace.

* * *

><p>Leena and Myka walked through the door and were met by the entire team in the common area. Pete beckoned the two women over to join them all in a board game. Artie was taunting Pete with his Taboo savvy, and Claudia and Steve fought for the TV remote control. She smiled at their revelry. Clearly the two young agents were still relishing the camaraderie. Their playfulness amused her, it was as if the water-gun fight she'd accidentally walked into earlier in the day had not been enough joviality. They inadvertently targeted her so many times as they ran up and down the aisles at the Warehouse, they eventually soaked her head to toe. She had been forced to return home to change clothes.<p>

She smiled despite her sadness, and found herself accepting the invitation. Maybe a night with her team, having fun, instead of dealing with Warehouse business would shake her out of her misery. "I'll be right there," she said to Pete. "I just need to run upstairs for a minute. Gotta freshen-up." Pete nodded and continued setting out the board game. Myka smiled again and ascended the stairs. She went to her room and was glad she decided to spend time with her friends. Her room seemed small and suffocating tonight. She quickly washed her face, threw her jacket on the bed, and turned to head back downstairs. At the door she paused, remembering to retrieve Helena's necklace. It still sat in the pocket where she stowed it protectively after the water fight erupted. She fished out the locket and hung it around her neck. Whether there was still a reason for hope or not, she would continue keeping Helena near her heart. She patted the locket fondly glad to have it where it belonged, and walked downstairs.

When she returned to the group it was just as Leena arrived with a tray of packaged snacks. Pete, as usual, was the first to dive into the food. They played Taboo for the next hour and enjoyed each other's company. During a break in the game, they were out of snacks and Leena went off to retrieve more, Pete turned to Myka and asked, "So heavy day, huh?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah, definitely one I would prefer not to repeat," she agreed with an emphasizing look. Pete nodded and took a banana from the tray of fruit Leena placed on the table. He peeled it quickly and popped a piece into his mouth.

"Fo erd oo do oh uhlah tie?" he said with his mouth full of banana.

"Dude! Do you ever not talk while you're eating?" Claudia teased. "We have no idea what you just said." Pete looked at Myka and nodded his head toward Claudia.

"He asked where we went earlier tonight," Myka said stiffly. She had hoped to avoid this conversation.

"Leave it to Myka, the walking Pete-Translator," scoffed Artie. They all laughed.

"We were at the Warehouse," answered Leena. "Myka wanted to visit the locker again." Myka braced herself for Artie's reprimand, but he was strangely quiet. His eyes, however, bore a hole right through her with his stare. Myka looked away. "Nothing to worry about, everything was fine," Leena added more for Artie than anyone else.

"Uh, was that really such a good idea?" asked Steve. "I mean, you know, all things considered?" Pete nodded his head and pointed at Steve as he threw the last of the banana into his mouth. Myka clenched her teeth. It had not been a good idea, but none of them could possibly understand what drove her. None of them suffered like she suffered these last months. To finally have hope and be forbidden to act on it was just not something she could have stomached.

"Yeah, seriously, Myka. The body check you got from Artie over that not enough of a deterrent? It would be for _me_." Claudia answered her own rhetorical question. Artie shot her a look and she followed it up with a meek, "shutting up." Myka's nostrils flared and she tried to pace her breathing as she felt the frustration and sadness from earlier in the evening return. It was bad enough she was trying to deal with closing the door on the possibility of Helena's return, but now they were asking her to defend her hopes. Why couldn't they understand?

"No. It wasn't. Apparently." Artie's response was flat and even. "Did you try to open the barrier?" Myka gave him a dark look.

"No, Artie, she didn't," Leena said in her defense. "We went, looked, and had a good talk. That's it."

"Uh huh. And what about the locker?" he pressed. "Did it do anything, activate in any way? Was there any sort of interaction between it and you?" His questions came rapid-fire and his volume increased until he was near shouting again. "Did anything come out of the locker? Were there any sounds? Exactly what happened?"

And Myka's composure broke. "Nothing, okay? The locker did absolutely nothing! I stood there, I touched it, I tried to see if maybe, just maybe for once something could go my way and maybe I could have _my_ friend back and be happy." Claudia and Steve looked at each other. "That maybe, just once, I could be like everyone else and bend a rule for something good!" She shot a harsh look at Artie. "That maybe, just once, I might actually be able to associate this job with something other than complete and utter heartache! Exactly how many times do I need to be responsible for losing the person I love because someone else chose to misuse an artifact? How many more times can I go through that? Tell me how much more I have to suffer!" Her voice broke as she addressed the dumbstruck group. Her hands shook as she spoke. "So, yes, Artie, I went to the Warehouse. I visited the locker against your orders, and I tried to see if I could make contact with her. I did it. And I'll keep doing it, because I love her." She looked at each of them in turn. "I love Helena G. Wells and I will never give up on her." She choked on Helena's name, barely able to finish her sentence, and just like that the outburst was over as she buried her face in her hands. The room went completely silent. Off to the side Leena tilted her head and watched as Myka's aural connection grew stronger.

* * *

><p>Tears fell from Helena's eyes with Myka's outburst. It was Sykes who was responsible for her untimely death, not Myka. She knew Myka carried the burden of Sam's death with her; adding Helena's death to her conscience would not make that any easier. She looked through the portal and thought of the grieving woman's emotional hell. She wanted nothing more than to return to Myka's side, but the reality of not knowing if they would ever succeed forced her to consider the kind of pain Myka would put herself through unnecessarily. Rather than coming to terms and letting go, she would hold to her hope. And as long as she did that she would keep trying to reach Helena. And as long as she kept trying to make contact, she would only prolong her pain and suffering. Helena loved her too much to allow her to go through that. The only way to release Myka from her self-torture was to remove the possibility for any kind of connection.<p>

She would never let go. She would never learn to be happy so long as she thought there was the slightest chance of breaking the portal open. In an instant Helena realized what she had to do.

She mustered all her will to wrench herself from the scene in front of her. She turned toward the white vortex and started walking.

* * *

><p>Pete was the first to move. He shuffled over and sat next to her. He put one arm around her and hugged her tightly. It never occurred to him just how much pain Helena's loss caused her. And, for the first time, it occurred to him he had never given Myka the shoulder she clearly now needed. "You know, H.G. and I… we had our differences… but they were always because I was angry she hurt you. I'm sorry she's gone. In the end, you placed your faith in someone pretty amazing." Myka lifted her head and gave him a small smile. The trail of soft tears stained her face and he wiped them away. Leena placed herself near Myka's feet and gave her a comforting pat on her knee before she spoke. "She was more than amazing. She was a force of nature all by herself."<p>

* * *

><p>Each step was like running a marathon so strong was the resistance Helena gave to fight the tortuous call. She imagined hands reaching out to impede her momentum trying to send her backward to the dark masses huddled behind her. She steeled herself and kept walking.<p>

* * *

><p>Leena looked at Pete and then at Myka. She raised her eyebrows as she watched Pete's aura fed into Myka's aural connection. It seemed brighter than it appeared just moments ago. When Steve and Claudia crowded in behind her, each placing a hand one of her shoulders, the intensity was undeniable. Their collective energy was strengthening Myka's connection to the locker.<p>

"I didn't get to really know her, but I can tell you that if I ever have someone who cared about me the way she did for you, I'd be the luckiest person in the world." Steve squeezed her shoulder and fell silent. Claudia gave him a reassuring look and sat down next to Myka as she spoke.

* * *

><p>She looked into the white vortex. It was blinding and beautiful. A wisp of energy flowed past her and joined the collective, and Helena watched it until she could no longer distinguish it from the other reflective energy. She wondered if that was what would happen to her.<p>

* * *

><p>"I miss her too, you know. She was like Victorian-me, and I don't think I ever had more fun than when we used to sit and design new interfaces for some of the equipment around here. She had mad skills. A little more computer training and she'd have upgraded this place something fierce." Claudia beamed a smile at Myka, eliciting one in return, and laid her head on her mentor's arm.<p>

* * *

><p>Helena stood before the wall of white contemplating her end. She thought of her daughter, Christina, and wondered if she would keep any memory of her when she entered the swirl of energy. She wondered if it would be cold, or if she would feel anything at all. She considered what it meant to truly let go – and tried to understand how she would shed the intangible aspects of her life.<p>

She placed her hands into the vortex and experienced the strange sensation of being and not being at the same time. The whiteness curled around her arms like fog rolling across an open field. She knew when she finally stepped through the threshold that all she knew and all she was would disappear and simply cease to exist.

The details of her life played before her mind and she dismissed them one by one, thankful for each memory as it served to remind her what a gift it had been to have lived. It was interesting, she thought, how much of what defines a person comes down to nothing more than emotional response to life. In this peculiar place she found it fascinating that for the first time she would find a way to accept the events in her life as simply being moments in the same way the color blue is the color blue. The emotions surrounding those circumstances are what made life difficult, she realized. It was not the circumstances itself. Those emotions mattered only because she had let them matter. They dictated her life when, if she had learned the lesson earlier, she might have had made a difference in the world. But, that was nothing more than regret and in the end it, too, was unimportant. Her mandate now was to focus on what mattered. Her resentments fell away, her joys, and her pains, and when all she had left to shed was her love, she thought of two people. One had driven her for over a hundred years and the other had taught her how to live again.

She looked again at the white vortex and prepared herself.

* * *

><p>Artie was the last to speak. He leaned forward in his chair and placed a hand on hers. "Hey, kiddo," he said in his fatherly voice. "I'm sorry. You're right. This job.. it, uh... It takes a lot of things from us, and sometimes I forget how painful that can be." He struggled for the right words. "What I'm trying to say is, Myka, H.G. wasn't a bad person." Myka looked at him. "Well, I mean, she <em>was<em>, but she wasn't in the end. You know what I mean." She smiled as he flustered himself. "In the end, she willingly gave her life for something other than herself, and that kind of selfless act... well... I never realized she had that in her. I was wrong."

* * *

><p>Helena looked back toward the opposite end of the portal and saw her old team gathered around Myka giving her comfort. She smiled. It was what Myka needed. Knowing Myka would have such strong support gave her some form of relief.<p>

* * *

><p>Leena's mouth fell open as she watched each person's aura flow to Myka and then to the connection. The colors blended and swirled and the soft translucent light-pink became a brilliant blinding white.<p>

* * *

><p>Helena took a breath and closed her eyes. She said "for Myka", but the words were stripped away as she entered the vortex and joined with the others. And then, at last, she was free.<p>

* * *

><p>The group sat physically and emotionally connected until Myka looked at each of them with a smile. "Thank you," she said. "I mean it, thank you. I'm sorry I got so upset." They stood and walked toward the kitchen for dessert. Pete nudged her from the side and she nudged him back. The tension was over.<p>

* * *

><p>"Myka?" Everyone turned at the sound of Myka's name being called. They stood silently and stared. There, in the center of the room, stood a smiling H.G. Wells.<p>

Page | 10


	8. New Beginnings  Chapter 8

New Beginnings by Marcia Gaines

Chapter Eight

Rendered silent by the astonishing figure before them, the group stood awkwardly reticent. H.G. Wells – for her part – smiled bewilderedly at each of them, in turn, before settling her vision on Myka Bering's face. The tall beautiful woman, who filled her every thought, returned Helena's gaze with one of her own. Then, as the two locked eyes, the world around them fell away. Claudia exclaimed her delight for the second time that day; Pete's and Leena's faces erupted into ear-to-ear smiles; Steve grinned; and Artie sputtered as he started asking questions. But for H.G. and Myka none of it mattered.

They stared, silently and unmoving, until the space between them seemed to fluidly shrink. Their eyes eloquently spoke the words they could not find. All the pain, anguish, and longing they felt melted away leaving each of them too mesmerized to make even the slightest movement. It was Steve who collected himself first; he recognized the emotion he saw between the two women and it brought a soft smile to his face. Lena caught Steve's eye and she nodded to him before silently leaving the room. Steve took her cue. He tapped Claudia on the shoulder to steal her attention. The young agent looked at him elatedly and started to speak but he stopped her with a finger to his lips. He tilted his head toward the front door as silent direction for her to follow him. She mouthed the question "what?" at him, so he pointed a finger toward the two mesmerized women in response.

"Huh?" Claudia looked at the women. "Right. Uhm. Yeah. You know what guys?" She addressed the group. Myka ignored her and took a tentative step toward Helena. "We should probably get going to the Warehouse…" Pete's eyes brightened as he caught her meaning. He gave her a conspiratorially look of agreement

"Yeah," he said. "We've got some really important… filing… to take care of, right Artie?" Artie paid no attention. He was intently gauging the output of a device he swept toward the room while Helena and Myka began slowly closing the gap between them. Pete reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder.

Artie jumped when he felt Pete's grip. "What?" He looked up clearly confused. Claudia glared at him and he mistook her meaning. "No, you go ahead. I, uh, actually… I thought I'd stay here and see if I could disco…" Claudia impatiently cut him off.

"Wow. Really, Artie?" She made an exaggerated expression with her eyes and darted a glance toward the women.

He followed Claudia's prompt toward their direction. "Oh. OH!" he said. His eyes widened with understanding.

"And he avoids the brick to the head," she said mocking his slow realization. "C'mon, old man, we've got… filing, to do." She shooed him out in front of her ignoring his objections to being called "old", and closed the door behind her as they exited.

* * *

><p>The reunited women walked slowly toward one another never averting their eyes. They came to a stop, keeping a foot of space between them, and searched each other's faces. Helena reached out and brushed a wayward curl from Myka's face. No gesture was ever so tender. Only moments ago she had floated into nothingness. She had sacrificed herself, yet again, for this stunning woman in front of her. And, yet impossibly, here they were.<p>

Myka closed her eyes at the feel of Helena's hand on her face. It was a simple act of endearment, but she wanted to lose herself in it. Too soon, the feeling was gone. When she felt the hand withdraw she knit her eyebrows together in disapproval and opened her eyes. Helena's wonder-filled face smiled back at her and it caused Myka's heart to soar. She felt herself smile at Helena for the first time and brought her own hand up to rest upon the nape of Helena's neck. Then she brought her second hand to rest on the opposite side. Her eyes washed over Helena's face and brimmed with tears she had to blink back even as a smile stole over her lips. She leaned in and brought her forehead to rest against Helena's then closed her eyes. Two teardrops hung precariously from her eyelashes before dropping to the floor.

"Are you really here?" Myka's question came as a whisper. The need for reassurance filled her words and melted Helena's heart. She raised her head and gently pressed her lips to Myka's forehead.

"I am," she whispered back closing her eyes. If she could have it her way, she thought, she would never be far from Myka's side ever again. They held the intimate pose, briefly, before Helena pulled Myka's head to her shoulder and wrapped her arms around her. "I'm not going anywhere."

"How can I be sure?" Myka mumbled into Helena's neck and succumbed to the embrace.

"Well, for starters, let's see what we can do about keeping you from such precarious situations in the future, shall we?" Helena chuckled. Myka stiffened moments before stepping back. There it was again, another reminder that she was the reason for Helena's fateful choice.

"Don't say that," she commanded flatly.

"Don't say wha—" Helena realized her mistake, but it was too late. "Myka, I didn't mean it that way." Helena took in the darkness swiftly stealing over Myka's expression. "I know you blame yourself. It's not your fault – it was never your fault."

"I wish I could believe that," Myka said truthfully.

"Myka," Helena said. "I made the choice, not you, and I did it of my own free will." It frustrated her to think this glorious woman bore so much unnecessary guilt. For all her self-confidence and capability, Myka Bering harbored a thinly wrapped fragility inside her hard exterior; it was, in itself, the kind of unexpected complexity upon which Helena's puzzle-solving mind thrived. Yet, for all the fascination she felt whenever she faced the duality of Myka's nature, one thing remained true – they were, without question, kindred spirits.

"I made the same choice you would have made if our positions were reversed." She put a hand to Myka's face turning it so they could face each other. "You would give your life to save another, would you not?" Myka said nothing. "Precisely. And if it would not have been that person's fault you made your choice – then, how exactly, is it your fault I made mine?" Myka tilted her head backward and looked up at the ceiling; she absorbed Helena's words and turned them over in her mind as she took in a deep breath. Helena was right. Her logic, as usual, was flawless. She exhaled slowly and brought her head forward. Helena reached her hand to the back of Myka's neck pulling it gently closer. She leaned in and whispered softly in her ear. "How much more so when that person is someone you love?"

Something stirred inside Myka as she let her mind wrap around the words. She reached her hands up to Helena's face and the two women stood, frozen, looking into each other's eyes. All her months of sadness, all her longing, and all her desire for the incredible being before her flooded her mind. Her heart pounded in her chest as she closed her eyes and leaned inward. Just as she brought their lips together Leena barged into the room.

"Myka! Helena!" She pulled up short and immediately regretted having to interrupt the intimate moment. "I'm, uh, I'm so sorry ladies. But Artie just called. He says he needs us to come to the Warehouse. He says something is seriously wrong."

* * *

><p>By the time they arrived every light in the Warehouse was on and both Artie and Claudia were furiously typing on their keyboards and talking into their respective Farnsworths. Pete's face appeared in Artie's view screen; Steve's could be seen in Claudia's.<p>

"I don't see it," said Pete's disembodied voice. Artie, hair more disheveled than usual, mumbled and sent Pete hunting in a new location.

"Yeah, Claud, it's here," Steve assured Claudia. "But, it's not on the bottom shelf of that stack. It's on the opposite shelf and it's at the top."

"Interesting," she said. "Steve, can you see George Washington's wig from where you're standing?"

"Uh." There was a pause. "Uh, nope. No, I don't see a wig anywhere."

"Okay, I need you to go to Receiving," she said. "Check on Davy Jones' Locker."

"You got it!" Steve closed the connection.

Myka and Helena looked at each other. Helena shrugged and Myka spoke. "Artie, what's going on?"

"Something's wrong. Terribly wrong! We're losing artifacts!" He said without turning around.

"Losing artifacts?" Helena asked. "What do you mean?"

He spun around in his chair. "What do you _think_ I mean?" He had the look of a madman. "We're _losing_ artifacts! They're disappearing!" He brought his fingers to his mouth, kissed them, and splayed them open. "Poof! Gone!" He spun around in his chair again and resumed typing.

"Claudia?" Myka addressed the younger agent. "What exactly does he mean, 'gone'?"

"Yeah, strangest thing," Claudia said as she turned to face them. "We came here to, let you guys…" her voice trailed off when Myka raised an eyebrow. "I mean, you know… uh, yeah so when we got here, we were going to go watch Pete and Steve play some ping pong, only we couldn't find the table. Or the paddles." She rolled her chair to her secondary laptop. "And that's when I noticed this." She tapped quickly and brought up a screen of the Warehouse layout covered in red and blue dots.

"What's all that?" Helena said pointing at the dots.

"Good question!" Claudia exclaimed. "Those blue dots, my lovelies, are misplaced artifacts." Myka's eyes went wide.

"_All_ of those?" She looked at Claudia.

"Yeah, exactly. They're still in the Warehouse, just not where they're supposed to be. But, I've been doing a little correlating, and I think I found something." Artie spun around again.

"Found what?" he kicked his feet against the floor until it rolled in Claudia's direction.

"It looks like… one second," she punched a few more keys. "Yep, I was right. It looks like the only missing or misplaced artifacts are ones we moved since the return of the Warehouse." Pete and Steve walked into the office and confirmed Claudia's hypothesis.

"Locker's missing," said Steve.

"And _none_ of those items on the list you gave me are in the proper place, they're all scattered," complained Pete.

"Scattered," said Artie under his breath. He furrowed his brow and rolled back to his desk to dig through papers. Myka leaned over and looked closely at Claudia's screen.

"What are the red dots?" Myka pointed at the screen.

"Oh, those? Those are missing." Claudia said matter-of-factly. "So far we're missing Johann Maelzel's Metronome, Shirō Ishii's Medal, the Collodi Bracelet, and Cleopatra's Coin."

"But those are…" Myka looked startled.

"Yes, the ones relating to the events of _that_ day," Artie replied. No specification was necessary; everyone in the room knew what day he meant.

"Claudia?" Myka's questioning tone caused all eyes to shift to her. "What are _those_?" She leaned over and stretched her hand out to touch two blinking yellow dots.

"Those," she pressed a few keys, "are artifacts we don't have."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand," Helena said with confusion.

"I mean, those aren't in inventory and never have been. They shouldn't be here," Claudia explained. The team began sorting through theories trying to come up with some sort of explanation when Artie let it slip that he originally believed Helena had been to blame for the oddities they were seeing. Myka bridled at the accusation.

"It's okay, Myka. To be honest, it's honestly a perfectly logical conclusion." Helena defended Artie. "I arrive on the scene, albeit rather unconventionally, meanwhile matters at the Warehouse become abnormal – it's hardly a stretch of the imagination to assume I'm responsible."

Artie shook his head, "Except I don't think you're responsible, anymore. I just think they're related." As he spoke Helena noticed the chain around Myka's neck.

"Is that my locket?" She asked Myka with a smile. "I never thought I'd see it again." Myka stood up and looked down at the necklace. She had become so accustomed to wearing it she had nearly forgotten she still had it.

"Yes, I had it in my pocket when you…when the explo…" She blinked and left the words unsaid, but removed the chain from her neck and placed it around Helena's. She smiled and said, "It always looked better on you." Helena returned the smile and wrapped her hand around the locket. Of all the possessions she had left in the world, this one meant the most to her.

"Oh!" She quickly removed her hand and held the locket up for examination. "It feels a bit odd here," she gingerly touched the injured corner.

"Oh, yes, I'm so sorry," Myka truly hated she could not return it unblemished. "It was damaged about a week ago. I cut myself on it, so I tried to file the edge down a little."

"Oh yeah! Harry Potter's rock!" exclaimed Pete.

"What?" Steve looked at him with an expression that made Claudia guffaw.

"Myka told me she almost got taken out by that rock. You know, that big red crystal thing? I read about it – in a _book_, and I knew it had to be the same thing. And," he gave Myka a knowing look, "the book said that rock was real. It belonged to a guy named… uhm… what was it? Flammable Nickle!" He snapped his fingers and nodded his head triumphantly; proud to have been able to educate the group with the historical facts for a change.

Myka pursed her lips together and looked down while raising her eyebrows. She never did understand how Pete's mind worked. "Nicholas Flamel," she corrected him. Claudia placed her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. Artie looked at him and shook his head. Pete looked undisturbed. He was still proud for having useful information.

"Ah well, perhaps we can get it repaired," Helena opened the locket and raised her eyebrows. "Well that's not my Christina," she said observationally. Staring back at her was a photograph of herself. It looked to be from her days as an agent at Warehouse 12. She glanced at Myka and smiled.

A sheepish Claudia confessed. "Oh, yeah. Her picture is still in there, so is the one of the dog that was behind that. I just put the one of you on top of both of them. I did that for Myka about a month ago. Owwww!" Claudia rubbed her shoulder where a blushing Myka poked her.

"The dog! I'd very nearly forgotten about Alistair. He was Christina's dog. He followed us home one day and she loved him so much I didn't have the heart to get rid of him. We had him for years." A faraway look appeared in her eyes as she related the story. "About a month or so after he passed on, Christina came crying to me. She was terribly afraid she would forget all about him. I got her the locket and told her as long as she had his photo with her she'd never forget." Helena gently closed the locket. "And when it was… her turn, I decided to heed my own words."

Artie looked at Myka while pointing at Helena's locket. "Do you mean to say this locket, the one you've been wearing around your neck… the one you had on you when the Warehouse exploded… the one that sat in the Escher Vault for over a hundred years…. the very one that once belonged to H.G. Wells, was the same one you _bled_ upon a few days ago? After it was _struck_ by the Philosopher's Stone?" Myka looked bewildered as she nodded to each of his questions. He turned to Helena. "And that's the same necklace you wore in remembrance of your daughter? And she wore it in remembrance of your dog? Is that right?" Helena nodded.

"The locket, the pictures, the Philosopher's Stone…" the team watched him while he mulled his data points. After a few moments he turned his head toward his desk, and then shuffled over to it. He laid his hands on the wood and thought briefly. When his eyebrows shot up, the team knew he had an idea. "Of course!" he exclaimed. "It all makes sense."

"Out with it Rain Man," said Claudia impatiently. She was as eager as the rest of them to understand what had happened.

Artie glared at her, but proffered his idea anyway. "You remember how chaotic everything was when we first brought the Warehouse back?"

"Uh, yeah, I only bathed in neutralize for, like, days." Claudia answered.

"Right. And that was because so many artifacts were affected by the time-shift. Properties changed." He looked at Myka as he spoke. She caught onto his train of thought.

"So you think when the Philosopher's Stone hit the locket…" she said.

"It transmuted the metal, yes." Artie replied. "One of the things the stone does is transmute metals, but it also was said to be able to raise organic life from the dead. Well, technically plant life, but the point is the properties of the Stone must have changed. It's the only answer." He looked at Helena and proceeded with his explanation. "I think the locket probably became an artifact, long ago. Based on its origins and how it's been used ever since, most likely all it does is keep the memory of the wearer fresh – so as not to forget anything about the person whose photograph is shown in the locket. And I think when Myka cut herself on it, her blood acted like a reagent."

"Her blood acted like Varda?" Pete referenced the deceased Regent who perished years previously in Egypt.

"Not Regent – reagent," Artie huffed with irritation.

"A catalyst, if you will," Helena offered as explanation.

"Thank you," Pete said to her. "Okay, a catalyst. So Myka's blood acted as a catalyst and what – it takes all this time for it to work? How does that make sense?" Pete appeared more than doubtful.

"No, I think Pete is right, Artie. It doesn't really make sense." Myka thought hard and said, "But, Leena kept telling me there was a connection – a visible one – between the Locker and me, but she only saw it well whenever I was talking or thinking about Helena." She glanced over at Leena who had been silent since their arrival. "What if the catalyst only made the connection stronger? What if when we were all talking about H.G. back at Leena's, what if that's what brought her back?"

"What kind of connection?" asked Artie. Leena explained what she had observed and described the scene in the sitting area – how the connection grew stronger when each of them touched Myka – and how the colors eventually blended into a brilliant white light. When she finished Helena stepped forward and described her experience in the corridor. Myka listened intently to Helena's words. A shiver ran down her spine when she realized how close she came to losing Helena for good.

"So when I stepped into the vortex, that was the same moment Myka's connection was at its strongest?" She looked to Leena for confirmation and received a nod in reply. She looked down again at the locket and said nothing further. Myka noticed the look on Pete's face; he was scanning the room and had a strange expression.

"Pete, what's wrong?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. "I'm getting a bad vibe. A really bad vibe." He turned to her and worry clouded his features.

Any conversation or further explanation that might have been forthcoming was dispelled by the sound of metal beams creaking as the Warehouse seemed to shudder. The sound of glass breaking and items falling to the ground could be heard by everyone. Before anyone could ask a question the Warehouse heaved and the interior space visibly warped for a fraction of a second.

"What the hell is going on?" Pete asked and looked around. The Warehouse warped again.

"I feel… weird," said Steve. Whatever he was going to say next no one ever knew. Before their eyes he flickered twice and vanished.

"Steve!" Claudia yelled and ran to where he had been sitting. The others turned to Artie and peppered him with questions. In the confusion none of them noticed the arrival of Mrs. Frederic.

"Arthur, would you be good enough to empty your pockets, please?" the nonplussed voice spoke from behind them all. At another time her sudden presence would have startled everyone, but they were all too focused on what was happening around them to comment. Artie did as requested and emptied the contents of pockets onto his desk. Out came candy wrappers, crumpled papers, keys, and finally – to everyone's surprise – what appeared to be a completely intact pocket watch.

"But this is broken. It's shattered to bits, the pieces are right here on my d-." Artie looked down at his desk and realization hit him. The shattered remnants were missing. What he held in his hand was _the_ pocket watch, as if it had never broken.

"That is what I was afraid of," said Mrs. Frederic.

"Mrs. Frederic?" Artie's question needed no further words.

"The Warehouse is resetting itself," she said.

"Resetting itself?" asked Helena. "To when?"

Mrs. Frederic's somber tone was eerily prescient. She looked at each of them and said "That is the question."

As if on cue, the Warehouse shuddered for a fourth time - and everyone vanished.

Page | 11


	9. New Beginnings  Chapter 9

New Beginnings by Marcia Gaines

Chapter Nine

"Bering and Wells," Myka flashed a quick grin before disappearing under the table. Helena looked around and blinked. An unsettling feeling overtook her as she worked through the severe sense of déjà vu. She looked down and touched the table in front of her. Caturanga's chess game. She was sitting in the Regent Sanctum and from the looks of it, had already beaten the game. _Change the rules_, the words echoed in her mind. She had done just that, and in doing so paved the way for the destruction of the Warehouse. _But, if I hadn't, Myka would be dead_, she thought. She turned and looked as Myka rose from her crouched position. She held chess pieces in her hand. _That's right_, thought Helena. _Those fell to the floor when the room started shaking… just before Walter Sykes took Pete with him through the portal to the Warehouse_. She turned and looked at the wall as the memory played in her mind.

"Now all we have to do is open the portal again," said Myka and began placing chess pieces on the board. "Hopefully they won't be too far ahead of us." Helena watched as she added each piece. She shook her head trying to make sense of things. Moments ago they were standing in the Warehouse office talking about Artie's pocket watch, but somehow they were now back in the Sanctum. Considering her recent experiences, however, she wanted to be slow to draw any conclusions. "What's wrong?" Myka paused in mid-placement still holding a white bishop in her hand. "Helena?"

Helena turned her head toward Myka and took a deep breath. "Myka," she began hesitantly, "do you get the feeling we've done this before?"

"What? Escaping from death-traps? Yes. Defying the laws of physics in order to walk through walls? Not so much, no." The playfulness of Myka's response was lost on Helena's focused mind.

"No, I'm serious," protested Helena. She glanced at the wall again. "Don't you recall…" She thought better of her question and turned her head back toward Myka. "What's the last thing you remember?" If she was right, and they were where she thought they were – _when_ she thought they were – she had to tread carefully.

"Uh, okay." Myka looked up as she thought. "You saved my life, Pete shot us with his Tesla, and then Sykes and he went through the portal." She pointed to the wall as she finished. "Why? What's the last thing _you_ remember?" Something in Helena's demeanor raised alarm bells in her head and she wanted to know the reason behind the strange questions.

_As I feared_, Helena thought running her fingers through her hair. _We've traveled back in time. To _that_ day. _ This was definitely the past; Myka's recounting of her most recent memory made that much, at least, beyond doubt. But how? And why this day? She looked at Myka. "We don't have much time. Things are about to get very bad. I promise I'll explain it all later." _If I get the chance_, she thought. Even though she knew there was no way to change the past, she could not but try. "Right now I need you to listen to me." Helena stood and took Myka by the hand. Her eyes pleaded as much as her voice. "Please, I need you to turn around and leave. Don't follow me, and don't return to the Warehouse today, just leave. Get as far away from here as you can."

"Helena, what's going on?" Myka's concern was evident. She dropped Helena's hand needing to focus on the task in front of her. The affection, as welcome and innocent as it was, only served to distract her. She glanced at the chess piece she still held before turning her eyes to Helena's once again. She twirled it over and over as she concentrated on Helena's face. Something was amiss, and the concerned woman before her knew what, but for some reason did not think she should share the details with her. Helena's fear was out of character, and if H.G. Wells was frightened something had to be terribly wrong.

"Myka, _please_. Please just _trust_ me." Helena's voice took on a disquieting urgency. Helena had faced many dangers in her life, and had borne many burdens. The special relationship she shared with Myka meant the world to her. Nothing mattered more, in fact. The idea of watching her suffer for months again was more than she could stomach. If she ever needed the blind-faith of the exquisite green-eyed woman, it was now. Myka looked at her a long moment before speaking.

"I do trust you," she said. "You want me to leave? I'll consider it, but on one condition." Helena stepped toward her giving the kind of facial expression to indicate she would agree to any condition as long as Myka stayed away from the Warehouse. "Tell me everything." Myka's voice was adamant and Helena knew there was no way around it. She had no choice. One way or another she needed to try to make something different happen this time. The feeling it caused inside her made her think of her desperate attempt to save her daughter's life, but in the end there was nothing she could do to change what happened to Christina. She feared the same might be true of the Warehouse. Still, it was better to try than to simply accept the inevitable.

"Okay, but I'll just give you the highlights. We haven't much time." Quickly she explained events, as she knew them, leading up to her jump through time. She related how Sykes intended on killing each of them and destroying the entire Warehouse. Myka had difficulty comprehending the story and her eyes widened when Helena told her of the masonry piece from the House of Commons attached to the underside of Sykes' wheelchair. She relayed the futile attempt to disarm the bomb and the resulting explosion that destroyed everything.

"The entire Warehouse. Gone?" Myka asked incredulously. She began pacing. Whenever she had trouble fathoming the enormity of a situation she often resorted to patrolling an unknown set of boundaries on the floor. Helena answered with a nod. "All of it?" There was another nod. The concept was inconceivable to her. "But Steve is alive?" Helena nodded.

"I did see Marcus inject him with a poison. It was supposed to induce a heart attack." Helena said. "I'm not sure how he survived, but he was definitely at the Inn and the Warehouse, though he disappeared just before I ended up here. Again." She looked around the room and shook her head in disbelief.

Myka paused to consider the information. "And the rest of us? You saw us all? We all lived." Helena side-stepped the statement.

"While you all worked on a way to stop the explosion, I looked for an alternative. I found one, in the electrical grid. It allowed me to redirect the barrier and create a force-field to protect you from the explosion. It was only for a last resort, but unfortunately, there was just not enough time to disarm the bomb. There was no other way to save you. When it eventually went off you were all safe, but the Warehouse was lost. If this is time repeating itself, we need to hurry." Helena reached for the last chess piece in Myka's hand. "Now, please, get out of here while there's still time. You'll be one less person I have to worry about." Myka moved to hand her the game piece, but stopped short and pulled it back.

"You," she said in a slightly detached voice. The faraway look in her eyes revealed only that she was lost deep in thought.

"I'm sorry?" Helena's confused look matched her question.

"You keep saying 'you'. You said 'I created a force-field to protect '_you_'; there was no other way to save '_you_'; '_you_ were all safe'. Why didn't you say 'we', Helena? _We_ were all safe." Myka searched Helena's face for a response. Despite Helena's attempt to mislead her, Myka picked up on a single word to root out the truth. Myka's deductive reasoning and observational habits rivaled her own. Helena looked away trying to think up a way to deflect Myka's train of thought, but it was too late. "Because it's not '_we_', is it?" Myka asked. "_We_ weren't all safe, were we? You didn't make it. You saved _us_, but you… you died?" Helena's averted gaze gave her the only response she needed. The idea that H.G. Wells would die in such circumstances incensed her. Just a day ago she argued with Pete that losing her meant losing one of the greatest minds in history. This was not her fight, and the only reason she had been dragged into it was because of Sykes. Killing her served no purpose, and righted no wrongs. To think she would die, while they all lived, made her grit her teeth. She refused to allow it. Helena was a civilian now, and this was a Warehouse task. If Helena was going to fight it, then she would fight the battle with her.

She swiftly maneuvered behind Helena and sat at the chair as she placed the last piece on the board. The shackle clamped around her neck and the pieces on the board evanesced before reappearing in their familiar starting order.

Helena thundered. "Myka! What are you doing? You said you'd go!" Myka glared at her defiantly. There was nothing either of them could do now but play the game. The portal would open and then there was nothing Helena could do about it.

"Maybe we can change the past and maybe we can't," she said. "But, if you're going in there, I'm going with you. I won't let you do this by yourself." She stopped Helena's next protest before it had the chance to be voiced. "We're doing this together, Helena. There's no time to argue, you said so yourself." Myka's voice was resolute and she turned her attention to the chess board where she played the pieces from memory, breaking the rules at the precise time. The overhanging axe-blade retracted noisily into its chamber and the clamp opened releasing her from its clutches. When the portal materialized she stood and headed toward the wall. She looked at Helena as she passed into the Warehouse and said over her shoulder, "You coming?" The other woman, still visibly upset, shook her head in frustration and followed her through to the other side.

"You're infuriatingly obdurate, do you know that?" Helena voiced her annoyance as they walked. She kept her head high as she walked, and Myka glanced at her thinking if a person could pout without visibly pouting that was the exact look Helena had on her face.

Myka laughed and gave her a mischievous grin. "Said the pot to the kettle?" Helena shot her a look, but the corners of her mouth turned up in a half-smile despite her agitation. She loved Myka's subtle reminder of their similar personalities, and she found herself unable to stay angry no matter how justified she felt it was. It was true, she mused. She herself had confounded multiple Warehouse personnel, and society itself, for her penchant to fly in the face of convention. She looked at Myka and smiled to herself. She was certainly the most alluring agent with whom she had ever worked. At the moment, however, she would have given anything to make her more amenable to reason. She sighed and muttered the word "women" under her breath. Luckily, Myka was too intent on listening to something else to have heard her.

Myka motioned for silence and walked softly toward a shelving unit. A voice could be heard on the other side. It belonged to Jane Lattimer. She pled with Walter Sykes for Pete's life – he was still under control of Cecil B. DeMille's riding crop and was holding himself at gunpoint. Helena looked at the scene in front of her and grimaced. It was playing out just like before.

Myka crept to an open space between the shelves and aimed her Tesla. She missed Sykes, but hit the riding crop, and Sykes dropped it as he ran. The discharge sent items flying from the shelves and a loud metal clank rang out from behind them. Helena, remembering the Mary Celeste's Rigging Rope jumped to the side and narrowly avoided being caught in it. She had to grab onto Myka to avoid falling, and stood flush against the taller agent by the time she regained her balance. They paused, green eyes staring into brown, not knowing if the electricity they felt in the air was left over from the Tesla's discharge or if it sprung from their proximity.

"Myka…" Helena's voice cracked. Standing like that with Myka made her head swim. She cleared her throat and looked away. Her gaze landed on the Rigging Rope, innocuously laying a few feet away. She blinked twice then realized the past had just been changed, albeit in a small way. The simple fact they avoided the Rope in its entirety told her all was not necessarily lost. It might actually be possible to affect change. Despite all reason her hope returned, and with it a newfound urgency. "Myka! We have to get to Sykes, he's gone to the portal. Hurry! I'll go around the other side!" Myka turned and made for the portal, and Helena stopped to consider the new possibilities. She looked at the abandoned wheelchair a few aisles away and walked toward it. Surely something existed that could give them a clear advantage.

* * *

><p>Myka arrived in time to help Pete tackle Sykes just before he entered the portal to the Sanctum. She took his legs out from the right and Pete hit him high from the left. The combined force of their tackle sent Sykes to the ground, but not before Pete was thrown into the wall by the forward momentum. It knocked him unconscious momentarily and he was still coming to. It would take him another minute or two to orient himself. Both Myka and Sykes lay on the ground and Sykes, kicked savagely at her while he rose. He caught her on the left side of her head opening a nasty gash above her eyebrow. Thick dark blood flowed freely hindering her vision, but she managed to grab his other leg and trip him. He went down hard and they struggled on the cement floor. He managed a partial swing at her, and she felt a searing pain as his closed fist grazed the side of her face. More blood flowed. She wiped her face on her sleeve smearing the blood, but clearing her vision long enough to get her bearings. She responded with a devastating hit to his solar plexus and heard him exhale forcefully as he curled up and doubled over on his side. Myka, grimacing in pain, quickly crawled to subdue him. She called to Pete, but before he got to his feet everything stopped.<p>

"Thank you, Ms. Bering, now kindly stand up and turn around. Slowly." Sykes' irritatingly condescending voice filled the air as he gasped for breath. She immediately backed up and did as commanded.

"Mykes, what are you doing?" Pete regained his feet but could not comprehend why Myka was playing along with the insane master mind. As she turned he made out why. He could see the point of the Tesla he had given his mother. Sykes held it held it steadily trained directly at Myka's head.

* * *

><p>Artie and Helena met along the way to the portal. She filled him in, as best she could under the circumstances, on everything going on and how she had traveled back through time. They were squabbling over whether or not it was possible to change events when they reached the portal to the Sanctum. They came to an abrupt halt and took in the scene before them.<p>

"Ah, Agents Nielsen and Wells, so good of you to join us," said Sykes. Myka's back was to him and she looked into Helena's face apologetically. Though she thought she would be of assistance in the attempt to stop Sykes, as it turned out she had been little more than a liability. She winced visibly when Sykes stepped up and grabbed her from behind. He tucked his arm under Myka's chin and held the Tesla to her head. Helena stopped breathing.

"No one move," Sykes ordered. "Except you, Agent Nielsen. Be a good man and cuff Agent Lattimer to the shelving, would you?"

"You got what you wanted, just go," Artie replied without moving.

"I said move!" Sykes responded and pressed the Tesla into Myka's temple. Artie quickly moved to Pete and handcuffed him to the metal shelving. Pete's eyes were ablaze.

"Sykes you son of a bitch, I will find you. I will find you no matter where you hide!" Pete pulled at the cuffs hoping to dislodge them; his frustration at being held captive amplified his anger.

"Temper, temper, Agent Lattimer," cooed Sykes. His silky voice might as well have been fingers down a chalkboard for the feelings it elicited in the group.

Helena's thinking clouded. All she could see was the love of her life, battered and bruised, held hostage by a psychopath. She recalled the time she, herself, spent as Sykes' hostage. She had helplessly watched as he ordered Agent Jinks' death without so much as a sliver of hesitation or remorse. To him the taking of a life was not something to avoid, but something to relish. She examined Myka from a distance taking in the evidence of Sykes' abusive nature. Blood ran from the wounds trickling down Myka's face and neck staining her shirt. Thick red drops, spatter from her injuries, were visible on the ground near their feet. Helena caught Myka's eye and they exchanged looks. When Sykes laughed and needlessly jerked her head to the side, for the sheer joy of causing Myka pain, Helena trained her attention on him.

A quiet fury rose within her.

Page | 8


	10. New Beginnings  Chapter 10

New Beginnings by Marcia Gaines

**A/N**: There was an update mishap, and I have updated Chapter 10 to reflect the actual Chapter 10 instead of reprinting Chapter 9 again. My apologies for all the confusion - thank you to those who sent me a note to point out the error! I hope you enjoy the chapter. Please feel free to leave a review/feedback. I would love to hear from you!

Chapter Ten

Helena's eyes smoldered as she looked at Walter Sykes. The black void in his eyes mirrored closely the darkness burning in her own. He held at his mercy the one person she loved most in the world, and all her focus was entirely on getting her to safety. They were all in mortal danger, but Helena's only thoughts were of the woman held in his grip. Myka cried out as he wrenched her backward with him toward the portal. Helena surveyed the scene in front of her knowing precious little time remained. She had to act.

"You don't have to hurt her," she said. "You can step through that portal and there's nothing we can do."

"And that's exactly what I intend to do," he sneered. He pressed the tip of the Tesla further into Myka's temple. "Now you all stay put. The lovely Agent Bering and I will be taking our leave."

"Let her go!" yelled Pete. He struggled with his handcuffs setting off a clang against the metal shelving. Sykes turned to address him, another taunt forming on his lips, when Helena released the hold she had on the object hidden in her sleeve. Too late he noticed the flurry of movement, and then his face contorted in pain.

Helena mimicked his condescendingly saccharine tone. "Did you never learn your manners, Mr. Sykes?" He let out a wail. "You will kindly release the lady, now." Sykes' arm relaxed and Myka pulled away. She was safe. All eyes turned to Helena. Held in her hands, curved into an arc, was Cecil B. DeMille's Riding Crop.

"Hah! Take that!" Pete managed to gloat before remembering he was still tethered. "Hey, uh, Artie?" He jangled his cuffs against the shelving and tilted his head toward them. Artie jumped and fished in his pockets for the key as he quickly moved to release Pete from his shackles. He kept his eyes on Sykes and Myka, fearing for her safety and trying to come up with a plan.

"It doesn't matter," Sykes said and grimaced again as Helena bent the horsewhip further. "You're all going to die."

"Perhaps," she said nonchalantly. She had other plans. Knowing she had been able to save everyone before, she was already calculating whether or not the barrier she created before might be strong enough to hold the blast. It seemed a questionable prospect, but it was the only other option she could think of in the moment. Myka coughed and rubbed her neck. "Are you alright?" She looked at Myka with concern.

"I'm… I'm fine," Myka said rubbing her chaffed throat. She pulled her hand away quickly and looked at her fingers. They were covered in her own blood. Helena clenched her teeth at the sight and bent the rod again. Sykes writhed in agony. Myka watched in horror as he pointed the Tesla at his own head. "Helena?" she turned to face her with her question.

"He will never harm you again," came the flat reply. There was no emotion and her tone was ice cold as she and Sykes stared at one another – his malevolent nature contending with hers. Myka looked between the two and felt a chill travel the length of her spine. In the pressure of the moment she could not tell whom she feared more. "Artie," Helena addressed the frazzled Warehouse manager, "be a dear and fetch Mr. Sykes' wheelchair, would you? I fear he'll be needing it sooner than he imagined." Artie bridled, but caught the nearly imperceptible shake of Myka's head as she silently urged him not to aggravate the moment. He held his tongue and went back for the wheelchair.

"I'll die before sitting in that chair again," Sykes spat defiantly. His eyes burned with ferocity.

"If you'd prefer," came Helena's sickly sweet reply. "Far be it from me to deny you your last wish." She gave the crop a cruel twist and his body contorted wildly as he screamed.

The tension broke with the sound of Pete's Farnsworth. He lifted it from his back pocket and opened the cover. It was Jane. She wanted him to know she made it out of the Sanctum and was well on her way to the home of a nearby Regent. He finished his conversation and immediately dialed Claudia.

"Claud, hey, how are you?" he asked when she answered the call. She let him know Mrs. Frederic, Leena, and she were fine but that Marcus Diamond perished. Walter Sykes grumbled at the news – nothing in his expertly crafted scheme was going as planned. Pete glanced up as he started to wrap up the conversation. They all turned to see Artie finally returning. He pushed the wheelchair in front of him.

"What took you so long?" Helena asked.

He gave her a look of annoyance and sarcastically replied, "Just lazy, I guess." He stopped the wheelchair near Sykes and held up the cushion revealing a deprecating digital timer. "Nine minutes and twenty-three seconds," he said to the group. "We don't have much time."

"Arthur." Mrs. Federic's tinned voice came over the Farnsworth. Artie moved to the view screen. "What do you mean you don't have much time, what's going on?" Artie held up the bomb and began walking her through everything. While he spoke with her Myka took the opportunity to reach for the Tesla in Sykes' hand.

"Myka, what are you doing?" Helena looked incensed.

"I'm disarming him." She said as she wrapped her hands around the Tesla and removed it from his grip.

"Helena," Myka stepped into her field of vision. "Helena, don't do this. Please." She held no love for the man, but she could not bear the image of seeing him tortured. Helena looked at Myka's face. She took in the drying blood and the bruised flesh swelling above her brow. The images of Myka's months of anguish, her crippling sorrow, and of Sykes holding her captive played in her mind. She could never allow the man to bring such misery again.

"You can't be serious," Helena retorted. "You know what this man is planning to do, Myka. He has absolutely no intention of letting a single one of us survive." Myka looked into Helena's eyes searching for some way to connect to the side of her she knew better than anyone else. Helena looked back feeling doubt for the first time. Without Myka's approval she could not know if she was protecting her or merely seeking revenge.

"You might as well kill me," Sykes said to Myka before throwing Helena a look. "She's going to anyway. I'm just one more body to add to her long count." Helena's face flickered, but she made no movement.

"Shut up," Myka said to him. She refused to believe Helena and Sykes shared anything in common. "He can't do anything anymore, Helena," Myka said and placed the Tesla in her holster. She looked at Helena and took a deep breath. It seemed like only yesterday when she stood before a raging H.G. Wells intent on the destruction of not just one person, but of nearly all humanity. Then, as now, Myka became a voice of reason. "We have him. He can disarm the bomb. It's over." She looked into Helena's eyes and saw the resolve begin to falter.

"There's no way to disarm it," he said. "I already told you, it's too late. But if I'm going out, then at least I know I'm taking you all with me. I take a great deal of comfort in the thought." Myka placed her hand directly on the Riding Crop before Helena could react to his words.

"Don't do it, Helena. You're not Sykes. This isn't you." Myka spoke softly and pleaded with her eyes.

"She's _just_ like me. She sets a goal and doesn't let _anything_ get in her way. She plays by nobody's rules but her own." Sykes said with a knowing smile. He saw no difference in their behaviors, not even in his undying belief that the ends always justified the means.

"I said shut up!" Myka whirled on him and looked him in the eye. "Whatever happens here, it will not be because you goaded her." She doubled him over and drove her knee into his stomach. He collapsed to the ground heaving for air. Myka ignored his groans and turned to focus on Helena. "There, he's completely incapacitated. Are you really going to torture him to death when he's never going to be a danger to anyone ever again?" Myka stepped toward her and placed her hand on Helena's face. "You won't do it, I know you. You're better than this. You're better than _him_." And Helena's fierce expression melted. Gazing into Myka's face she thought of the absolute faith the taller agent held in her, and in the goodness she categorically believed resided in her. Helena turned her eyes to look at Sykes and for the first time saw with Myka eyes – he was just a man pathetically debilitated more by emotion than by the challenges life gave him. She had already battled her own demons and won. She looked back at Myka and knew that even if she was not every bit the person Myka believed her to be, she was no Sykes. She relented. The Riding Crop slackened along with Sykes' body, and Myka took it from her hands. The standoff was finally over.

Sykes rolled to his side and Myka pointed the Tesla at him. "I wouldn't move if I were you," said Helena. "Things could get ugly again." Sykes spat an obscenity which she chose to ignore. She looked over at Artie and saw him holding up his pocket watch as he and Pete huddled over the Farnsworth.

"We have to get to the Ovoid Quarantine. It can offer us some protection from the rest of the Warehouse, but I… I doubt it. Our only option might be to use the Watch."

Mrs. Frederic's voice came through the Farnsworth. "Arthur, The Qurantine area won't stop an artifact nuclear device. I wouldn't recommend using the Watch. You know as well as I do the effects can be unpredictable. Trying to reset time always has its consequences. Take everyone through the portal and leave the bomb behind – we'll regroup and discuss." Artie closed the Farnsworth and looked around him. He was trying to come to grips with the order to abandon the Warehouse.

"The watch," Helena said under her breath. "Myka, that's how Artie reset the Warehouse. That's how we came back in time, that's how we're changing the past, it has to be."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Sykes. "It's not possible to travel back in time. And even if you could it wouldn't matter. You can't change what's already occurred in the past."

"No, you can't. But, you can change what hasn't happened yet." Artie looked at Helena as he spoke. "I think I know what happened. If I used this watch," he looked down at his hand, "then we reset the Warehouse to the point where I originally stopped the clock. Everything you told me took place in that timeline never actually happened. That's how you were able to come back. That's how events are changing."

"Yeah, but why _her_?" Pete asked. "Why is H.G. the only one with any idea of what happened?"

"That's something I'd like to know," she said and Myka nodded in agreement.

"The only thing I can think," he said, "is that she was the only one of us who wasn't alive when we pulled the Warehouse back. Something about her… ah… condition…"

"It protected her from the effects of the time-warp," finished Myka. She turned around to face Helena staring incredulously as she spoke. Artie nodded. He held up the watch as he walked toward the portal and looked at it carefully.

"I wish I knew more," he said and then he went flying into the wall. Sykes had tried to grab for the watch while Myka was distracted and they crashed into the wall, instead. The bomb Artie carried flew toward the portal and the watch smashed against the stone where it shattered into countless pieces.

Helena watched as the bomb came to rest on the cusp of the portal and the Sanctum. The case sat, barely visible, with only a small corner of its case remaining in the Warehouse. She spied the chess table beyond and Caturanga's words echoed in her mind. _Change the rules_. She sprang forward. Her movement catalyzed the others and all at once, everyone lept into action. Pete ran toward the wall where he pulled Sykes off of Artie flinging him to the side. Artie started to reach for the bomb case but went for Sykes' legs when he saw him stumbling for balance. Helena grabbed the bomb case and pulled it partially through the portal as she turned to Pete and yelled, "Pull the switch!" Myka aimed her Tesla and fired. It hit Sykes squarely between the shoulders and, with Artie holding onto his legs, he went down with his left hand outstretched just as Pete pulled the power switch down with all his might. The portal closed disintegrating the bomb and Sykes' hand at the same time. As it shut a brilliant discharge flared through the Warehouse and debris from the Sanctum flew through the portal's final closing aperture. It landed with such force it knocked over an entire shelving unit spilling its contents noisily to the ground.

The team looked at one another unsure of what to think or say. From all around them the strange sound of the barrier disengaging echoed through the Warehouse. For now, at least, the danger was over. "Everyone okay?" Artie stood up and addressed the group. He looked around and saw them all coming together. Helena held up the severed piece of the bomb's case and placed it in Artie's hand. Pete walked over to her and gave her a tight hug.

"Thank you," he said quietly. He knew Helena had risked herself more than once not just to save the Warehouse, but all of their lives. She gave a genuine look of shock, but gladly accepted his appreciation.

"Anytime," she said and exchanged a sly grin with Myka when he released her. It was an unexpected niceness and they were both glad Pete finally seemed to think she deserved more than contempt or indifference. Artie opened the Farnsworth to report back to Mrs. Frederic, and Myka walked over to Sykes' prone body. She pulled the bracelet from his other hand, and let it fall to the ground. She did not notice he stirred at the movement.

As she walked to the group she barely heard the end of a sentence from behind her, "… like home." A massive gust of wind blew through the Warehouse and when she turned to look Sykes was gone.

* * *

><p>That night, back at Leena's, the group sat together recounting their brush with death and all Helena could relay about the other timeline. Claudia was the only absence – after hearing from Helena that Steve was still alive she pestered Mrs. Frederic for answers and she finally revealed the truth about Cleopatra's Coin. The young agent was on her way to retrieve him. She insisted he not wake up in a cold morgue without a friendly face to greet him.<p>

When the end of the evening came everyone retired to their rooms. Pete, Myka, and H.G. ascended the stairs together as they discussed the whereabouts of Walter Sykes. "Let us hope we have seen the last of that man," said Helena gravely. The thought he might be able to try again was a more sinister possibility than she liked, and it was difficult to accept she had made the right decision in handing over the Riding Crop to Myka. If she had kept it active on him, he would not be at large anymore.

"I wonder what he used to get away," said Myka. "But, I guess that's an investigation for another day." She looked at Helena and smiled. Right now all she wanted was to talk with Helena about the things she learned regarding the alternate experience. She was not entirely sure she was ready to admit to herself why she might have suffered over Helena's death in the other timeline, but she could not deny that her feelings were now sharply in focus.

Pete commented on the escape. "Yeah, I asked Artie about that. He says based on what you thought Sykes said it might actually be that Sykes used the rubies that were in the Wizard of Oz slippers."

"The Wizard of Oz?" Helena said brightly. "The slippers in that story were silver, I thought?" She looked at Myka.

"They were," Myka said. "But in the movie they changed them to be red; technicolor was still pretty new for movies so they wanted to emphasize what they could do." Helena nodded in appreciation. Having caught her eye as they neared her room Myka lifted her eyebrows toward her door to indicate she wanted Helena to follow.

Pete continued, "Yeah, I guess a set of rubies that were used in one of the pairs of slippers in the film once belonged to a woman who died in a massive tornado in Missouri in 1925. His brother-in-law worked on the costumes and he asked to have them included as a sort of memento. So the rubies went in the slippers." The two women furtively stepped inside as Pete continued his train of thought. He scrunched his face as he tried to think. "Rubies _in_ the slippers? Or would it be _on_ the slippers?" He turned to ask Myka what she thought and was met with the door to her room swinging closed. He caught a glimpse of his partner's hands stripping Helena's jacket from her shoulders as the two women leaned into one another. The door shut in his face and he blinked. "Right. Probably _on_ the slippers," he said and he turned to walk downstairs.

_Fin_

Author's Note: My thanks to all of you for taking the time to read through these chapters, and for all your encouraging and critical comments along the way. Look for a new episodic NB-Canon story, "Accidental Tourist", Chapter 1 already posted.

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